Epic
by InSilva
Summary: AU. Danny and Rusty meeting on board a ship. Yes, again. Complete
1. Encounter

Epic by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own any O11 characters and also, please don't sue me, Mr Cameron.

Summary: AU. Danny and Rusty meeting on board a ship. Yes, again.

A/N: Obviously, obviously inspired by what it's inspired by. Equally obviously AU. :D

For otherhawk for the random offsite conversation that brought this about and because she got all encouragey and then gave me the best reason ever to want to contract hypothermia.

Chapter One: Encounter

* * *

Terry Benedict relaxed in the comfort of the back seat of the limousine and dispassionately watched the countryside roll by. He wasn't concerned with aesthetics and beauty unless he could possess them. Somehow he doubted the British government was going to sell off Hampshire.

Still staring out of the window, he said softly to the other passenger, "So tell me what you think."

There was a pause and then the other man began to speak.

"The meeting went as we expected. Webster doesn't want us there, that much is obvious, but then company founders rarely welcome hostile takeover bids."

"Tell me something I don't know."

The man tried again. "Karen Mitchell is on our side."

Karen Mitchell. Finance director and minority shareholder. That made Terry's head turn. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

Said simply and with conviction. Not enough for Terry.

"Tell me why."

* * *

Terry could never take anything on trust. He always needed the magic explaining. Danny sighed without showing it.

"Her body language was open and inviting. She kept eye contact and she was giving non-verbals all the way through your presentation."

Terry made a little self-satisfied noise. "Well, it was a good presentation."

Danny ignored Terry's ego though it was difficult when it took up so much room in the back of the car.

"She didn't pick you up on the risk of committing capital investment to such a rapid expansion plan and she glossed over her supporting answer when Webster wanted to challenge your projected returns."

The noise this time was more of a grunt of dismissal. As if now Terry knew how the trick was done, he wasn't bothered. Nothing new. Danny stayed silent.

"Well, if Karen _is_ on board, then good. She can make things a whole lot smoother."

Danny hesitated and then thought what the hell. "She'll bring Lewis Jordan with her too."

"The operations guy?"

"Yeah."

Terry's eyes narrowed. "What did you see?"

In the week before Terry had arrived to launch the formal negotiations, Danny had seen the chemistry that the two were desperate to hide. The way they had carefully ignored each other throughout the refreshment breaks. The fact that they were almost too polite with each other in the formal discussions. Nothing that Terry would understand. He gave Terry the factual.

"I was watching the car park on the second morning of the negotiations. Karen and he got out of the same car."

"Not conclusive."

Danny shrugged. "He was wearing the same shirt and suit. Easy just to change a tie."

Terry digested the information and gave an abrupt nod. "Good. Good. That'll give us enough boardroom votes."

He dug out his phone and started to dial.

"It's 5 in the morning in New York," Danny said hurriedly.

The look from Terry suggested that the fact was immaterial.

"Gloria? Terry. Take a memo."

Danny gritted his teeth and looked out of the window. Terry was Terry.

* * *

The limousine swept smartly into the docks and Rusty swayed out of its path with customary grace. He stared up at the ocean liner and ran a finger and thumb thoughtfully over his mouth as he weighed up the pros and cons.

A ticket back to the States, obviously, though that was neither here nor there. The main thing was that Andrew Lee was on board with that little gold statue. And besides Andrew, there were bound to be rich pickings within. Rusty pulled his suit sleeve down over his frayed cuffs. The con in London had ended up being a bit of a stalemate and he could do with a little success.

It was just a question of timing. To keep investigations to a minimum, robbery needed to be as close to the other side of the Atlantic as possible. Yes, there were definite pluses. The only downside was the idea of spending a week somewhere you couldn't escape from. Not even close to his comfort zone.

He was still debating when the well-built driver of the limousine got out and walked round to open the back door of the car. A sharply-dressed man with an attaché case cuffed to his wrist stepped out on to dockside. Rusty watched with interest as his nose wrinkled at the surge of people around him. Now this looked like a man he might enjoy robbing. His gaze dropped down to the attaché case and professional wonder started speculating. Diamonds, cash, gold….?

Then the door the other side of the car opened and a second man emerged. Mid-twenties, possibly a couple of years older than he himself was. Dark and handsome and miserable. The potential mark was in discussion with the chauffeur and Rusty saw the second man staring at the man's back, his face full of unguarded pensive unhappiness.

Carefully, Rusty wandered closer. Dark eyes were off somewhere else entirely and Rusty just _knew_ there was a story there. Maybe a story he could use…maybe something to deflect attention or to distract the mark…

The man's expression became immediately neutral as the man with the case span round on his heel and barked something then the chauffeur started clearing a path through to the gangplank.

Rusty watched the procession of the little party and realised his mind had been made up for him.

* * *

The five men watched as passengers embarked. They stood in line and smiled and moved with the herd. None of them showed any sign of recognising each other. This was a serious endeavour.

* * *

Sometimes, it was a bonus that Terry refused to fly. Danny looked round at a room that oozed luxury with its chaise-longue and its rich drapes and did its best to convince you that you were in a five star hotel. The stateroom cabins were impressive.

Terry and he had adjoining suites and Striker was somewhere close enough to get here in a hurry. Terry was ever conscious of cost control. Mind you, Terry'd probably have Striker sleep in the damn limousine he'd insisted on bringing on board if he could.

"Danny," came the one word summons.

Danny walked through to find Terry holding out his wrist.

"Get this off me."

He produced the key and undid the cuff. Terry pulled his hand free and then undid the case and took out the box from Asprey's. Danny watched as Terry reverently removed the lid and there was a flash of blue and white jewel-fire

"The Heart of the Ocean," Terry murmured.

Danny looked at the necklace with the enormous heart-shaped sapphire and thought it was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen.

"She'll love it," Terry said and it sounded like there was no other option. "Get the safe open."

The safe was through in Terry's bedroom. Danny stepped round the luggage that the porters had brought up under Striker's careful eye and squatted down in front of the heavy block of metal. He pictured the heavy necklace around her neck. However hard he tried, it still looked like a slave collar.

* * *

Rusty had slipped on board as Mr Herbert Herbertson whose parents had obviously had a sense of humour. Having observed Mrs Herbert Herbertson - loud, bossy and demanding – Rusty would have liked to lay money that by lifting the ticket, he had saved her husband from a cruise from hell.

Now he was busy understanding the layout and ascertaining exactly where Mr Andrew Lee was going to be residing. The lower you went, the poorer you were, obviously. The bottommost rooms were well below the water line and as far removed from the state cabins as package holiday tourists were from travelling by private jet.

There were also definite deck boundaries. Those with the money enjoyed exclusivity and facilities away from the hoi polloi. After a couple of "I'm sorry, sir"s, Rusty understood that Mr Herbert Herbertson was confined to plebeian status. Well, that was OK. Rusty just had to find a spare uniform.

No one looked at a uniform. No one looked at a waiter with a glass and a bottle on a tray and a cloth draped over his arm, not even other waiters.

Cabins, exclusive kitchens, a cinema, select shops, a swimming pool and sports area, a ballroom…the list went on. All designed to wall and protect the very rich from class contamination. Rusty had no problem with any of this. He liked his marks rounded up and easy to find.

"You. Boy."

Rusty stopped and turned. It was the man with the bad smell under his nose from the limousine. He was seated at a table, wearing shades and had a phone pressed to his ear, studying papers.

"Yes, sir?" Rusty kept his voice deferential and his head low.

"Bring me a black coffee." The man didn't even look up.

"Certainly, sir." Rusty swept away with absolutely no intention of fulfilling the request.

* * *

Terry was a workaholic and expected those who worked for him to have the same work ethic. He was also a complete control freak and expected those who worked for him to act with autonomy but to keep him informed at all times. A distinct want to know rather than a need to know. Didn't make him any less exhausting to work for.

Danny stood under the shower jets and let the warm water run over him. He was feeling drained. In fact, drained didn't begin to describe it. The planning for these jobs was always so intense. Terry wanted the strategy firmly in place and the details drilled down to the nth level. No surprises. Work wasn't going to stop over this week, of course. Foolish to think so. Terry didn't do holidays.

The shower curtain was abruptly pulled back and Danny turned in shock, his hands shooting down to cover himself.

"Jesus, Terry!"

Terry was not the least bit repentant or embarrassed.

"I couldn't reach you. Next time you want to take an unscheduled shower, you clear it with me first."

"_Clear _it with you…?" Danny stared at him in disbelief. "_Fuck_, Terry, do you think you own me?"

"Oh, I don't think, Danny." Terry threw him a towel. "I know." He headed out of the bathroom throwing his final instruction over his shoulder as he went. "Outside in five. I want to talk about Virginia and the Linson Davis Corporation."

Danny killed the water and glared after him.

* * *

Andrew Lee's cabin had been located and the routes to and from memorised. The man himself had wandered past looking like he was enjoying himself, a blonde and a brunette on either arm. Good. If Andrew kept this up, Rusty would have all the distraction he needed to make the lift.

Rusty had returned to the lower decks and changed back but decided to keep the uniform in a safe hiding place. Wasn't like it was going to stop being useful.

Food wasn't an issue when there were vending machines and cafeterias and wallets that could keep up with the healthiest appetite. Sleeping arrangements were going to be more interesting.

He couldn't take the chance on the Herbertsons' cabin. For one thing, Herbert might have gotten on board somehow. An even scarier thought was that Mrs Herbertson might have come along alone.

A pass key would be helpful. He'd soon be able to find an empty cabin. Tomorrow, for the pass key. In the meantime, there was nothing that said he needed to be alone for the night or failing that, there looked to be several public places to linger.

* * *

He had not spoken to any of the others. Like him, they were dedicated to the mission and the vision. In two days, both would be fulfilled. He looked down at the contents of his kit bag and smiled to himself.

* * *

Danny sat through dinner and fought the urge to drive his fingernails into his palms. Not even the finest food and drink could deflect Terry from his next project and his next project was not one that Danny approved of in the slightest.

Danny had read the profile of the Linson Davis Corporation when he knew Terry had it in his sights. It was a well-respected, family run organisation whose chairman was the grandson of its founder. It looked after its employees, it looked after the local community and it yielded a healthy profit for its shareholders. And out of that entire sentence, Danny knew the six letter word that interested Terry.

"You find me a way in," Terry said, spooning crème caramel into his mouth and handing Danny a file with a thick sheaf of paperwork. "You hear me?"

He heard him. He wished he didn't have to listen.

"I asked you a question, Danny. I'd appreciate a response."

"I'll find a way in," Danny replied. The awful thing was, a plan had already started to form.

* * *

As evening fell, Rusty spent it with drinks and a very interesting conversation with a young lady called Erica which had been interrupted by her boyfriend, Gary.

The later it got, the more people started to disappear. There were still pockets of party-goers but lights were being dimmed, rooms were emptying and the encouragement was to go to bed and rest up and do this all again tomorrow.

Rusty headed out to the main deck. It wasn't cold but it wasn't warm either and he pulled his coat round him. His feet took him to the stern of the ship and he leaned up against the railings and watched the white water trailing behind.

There was something peaceful about the shimmy of the wake, regular and churning and the thrum of the engines was comforting. Over and over. A gentle kind of hypnosis.

All of which meant he was only aware of the man in the shadows when the man moved forward and climbed up on the railing, throwing something – _paperwork?_ - into the water. Rusty caught sight of the man in profile, dark hair falling across his brow. It was the man he'd seen earlier with the misery on his face. The misery was still there, rich and heavy and Rusty's breath caught at that. It seemed as if there was an even chance that the man might end up in the water too.

He was already moving when the man's hand pulled back, ready to throw something else and Rusty saw what that was. He leapt across and stopped the man's arm, pulling the bottle free from the other's grasp.

"Don't waste good whisky," he suggested.

The man looked startled at the interruption and then slipped back down on to the deck, nodding. "That's good advice."

Rusty smiled and there was a pause and then the man smiled back. Deep and genuine and Rusty's smile became even wider.

"Come on," Rusty suggested, holding up the half-bottle of malt. "Let's go find somewhere to finish this off."

* * *

Somewhere turned out to be a sheltered part of the deck with a bench. Rusty found two plastic cups from a water fountain and they sat, sipping warming alcohol, their shoulders brushing up next to each other.

"Danny."

He didn't even think to lie. "Rusty."

"Good save," Danny said, tipping his drink.

Rusty crooked a smile. "You want to talk about it?"

Danny was silent for a moment. "Just had a bad day."

"Bet there's a girl involved."

"No girl," Danny said quickly.

"A guy? I mean I saw you get out of that limo with-"

Danny's spittake was immediate and impressive. "_Terry?_ God, no." He shuddered.

"Sorry," Rusty grinned and then the grin died away. "He your boss?"

Danny set his teeth. "Yeah." Reluctant.

"He that much of a bastard?"

"More than you could possibly imagine."

* * *

Rusty sat and listened to story after story of Terry Benedict's victories and all the petty vicious little ways the triumph was underlined. Benedict was indeed an unimaginable bastard. But Danny wasn't. Rusty's first thoughts of using Danny as a fall guy had long since fled. Benedict was still a prime target to rob. Nothing Rusty was hearing was convincing him otherwise. The one thing he didn't get was why Danny was doing working for Benedict. He said so and Danny sighed.

"He took over the company I worked for three years ago. Don't know the reason he kept me on but he did and he kept me close. _Keeps_ me close. Like I'm..."

Rusty topped up the whisky. It was clear what Benedict thought Danny was. His personal company asset. He asked the obvious question. "Why don't you leave?"

Danny gave a bark of laughter. "You think I haven't tried? Tendered my resignation on a Monday, worked my three months' notice and when I started at my new place, Terry was sitting behind the desk."

"He bought the company."

"Yeah. Next place I tried to join, he not only took it over, he bankrupted the owner and his family and ruined his brother-in-law's tractor dealership."

"Ouch."

"S'right." Danny studied the whisky. "I got the message."

"But there must be people out there who could take on Terry."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? Trouble is, word gets round. And then there's knowing who to trust. I got headhunted six months ago." Danny shot him a sideways glance. "Guess who was doing the headhunting."

"He is one sick son of a bitch," Rusty said with feeling.

"Says I've got a gift. Vision. Says he doesn't want anyone else getting a competitive edge."

"Can't you just...disappear?" Rusty asked. "Drop out? Change your name and leave Terry Benedict high and dry?"

Danny looked at him and his shoulders dropped and he gave a resigned sigh. "There's this girl..."

* * *

Tess. Her name was Tess. She'd been in Danny's life three years and two months ago, a new HR manager at his firm and there'd been a lot of smiling and even more flirting and then Terry had arrived and turned lives upside down. Tess had been kept on too. Moved to New York HQ and promoted and given a pay increase.

"Any of that work?" Rusty wanted to know.

"She's engaged to him," Danny whispered. "Guess some of it did."

The look on Rusty's face must have spoken volumes and Danny went on quickly, "She doesn't know what he's like. Not really. He keeps all the bad stuff hidden well out of sight. Tess just sees a successful businessman."

"Instead of a successful bastard."

"Right. Haven't figured out yet how to show her what he's like." Danny knocked back the drink. "Anyway. Enough about me. What are you doing here?"

The pause was less than a second while Rusty framed his story but it was enough for Danny to look at him and horror to dawn on his face.

"Fuck...you've been following me…" Danny jumped to his feet.

"No," Rusty said at once, getting up too.

"Terry sent you."

"No!"

"You were watching me get out of the car, you were there at the back of the boat-"

"Stern of the ship and I am not following you-"

"You going to tell him I threw the Linson Davis paperwork overboard? Be my guest!" Danny started striding away. "Terry doesn't scare me."

"Wait!" Rusty grabbed his arm. "Terry didn't send me-

"_Sure. _No!" Shaking himself free. "I think this is where we say goodbye."

Rusty stood and watched Danny walking away from him and wondered why it felt so wrong.

* * *

A/N: I promise I am writing "Relationship Matters". And "Body and Soul". And "Mind and Vision" and "A different perspective". Just that this got in the way. And hope you like.


	2. One Day

Epic by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create 'em. Don't own 'em. Just borrow them for a little bit.

Chapter Two: One Day

* * *

Morning came with a headache and Danny squinted at his watch with a wince. He'd already downed enough alcohol last night before he'd met Rusty. Rusty who had cast a spell with a smile that had made him pour out his life story. Danny groaned. How ridiculous had he been. Terry would be having a good laugh right about now.

Breakfast out on the private terrace with Terry was a trial. It took three black coffees before Danny could even begin to focus properly on Terry's side of the conversation with Gloria. Papers being drawn up for something, some target organisation other than Linson Davis. Probably the next but one acquisition.

Terry hung up eventually. He put the phone down on the table and looked across at Danny appraisingly and if Rusty _had_ reported back, Terry wasn't telling.

"You got something on your mind? Something I should know about?"

"Nothing," Danny said firmly.

"Good. Plenty of time for you to think about what I've asked you to think about."

Danny smiled, all confidence and face and true feelings nowhere near the surface.

* * *

Striker had been summoned and Terry was off having a sotto voce conversation that was undoubtedly about the shadier side of Terry's business activity. Danny headed back to his suite, barely noticing the waiter in the corridor until the waiter pushed him back into his room and kicked the door close behind them.

Danny was staring into blue eyes that demanded an audience with him.

"Get out," Danny hissed.

"Please."

It was just one word. One word that felt like it shouldn't have been said because there was something crackling in the air just as there'd been something the previous night, some sort of connection that made Danny relax and trust, some hint of a joke that Rusty wanted to share with him and him alone.

He folded his arms and nodded. "Alright. Talk."

"Terry didn't send me and I wasn't following you. I… I'm a conman."

"Do I have to check if I still have my wallet?"

"I don't know, do you?" Rusty's eyes were fierce.

Danny was silent for a moment. "I guess not."

Rusty took a deep breath. "I'm here for a man named Andrew Lee. I picked him up on the tailend of a job back in the UK. I saw Terry at the docks with the limo and the attaché case. I notice these things. I noticed you too."

Danny's chin lifted slightly.

"Not…not as someone to steal from."

It was the truth. And yet…

Rusty sighed. "You looked like you had a story to tell."

He waited and reluctantly, Rusty went on.

"And I wondered if the story would give me an in to Terry." Blue eyes held his gaze with defiance. "But then I met you."

Five words and they hung in the air between them and Danny wondered suddenly if Rusty felt the same electricity that he did.

"You don't know me," Danny whispered, his arms dropping to his sides.

Rusty's smile was silent contradiction and it was like the previous night, an immediate intimacy that was rash and reckless and Danny didn't have to wonder any longer.

"We only met last night," Danny pointed out stubbornly, feeling conventional and stupid because he wasn't certain that that actually mattered.

Rusty's answer confirmed the feeling. "Is that important?"

This time, Danny smiled too. "I guess not."

* * *

He wasn't certain why he'd needed to seek Danny out. Why it had been necessary to make sure Danny understood the truth. Just that during the course of last night – and he couldn't even be sure at what point - he'd identified something in Danny, some quality that was special and that he, Rusty, didn't want to be disappointed in him. Danny's opinion mattered. More than that, there was something about this man he'd just met and the something wasn't just that Danny was no longer eligible as a distraction. _Danny_ mattered. And that was ridiculous in ways that Rusty didn't want to contemplate but he couldn't avoid the fact that it was true.

Right now, he was stood facing Danny and he knew with certainty that Danny felt it all too. Danny, who was so tied up in knots by Terry Benedict that it set Rusty's teeth on edge. Suddenly, setting Danny free fired through Rusty. So many constrictions and he wanted to draw a sword and cut right through them.

He gave Danny an appraising look. "Come on," he said.

"Come on where?"

"Let me show you what you're missing."

"I have to- I can't-"

"Terry'll phone you if he needs you, won't he?"

"Yes." Terry would. Terry did. Often. Always.

"Well, then."

"I guess…" Danny opened the door and they bumped together as they both went to go through it.

"Sorry," Rusty apologised and stepped back into the room to let Danny go first.

As he did so, he placed Danny's phone on the table by the door. Terry wasn't going to interrupt them.

* * *

First stop had been back to the lower deck and the store cupboard which Rusty was using as a changing room. Danny averted his eyes as Rusty changed and pretended not to feel the grin burning into his back.

"I'm decent," Rusty said after a few minutes. "Relatively speaking."

Danny shuffled round in the tiny space and saw Rusty automatically pull his suit sleeve down over his cuff. There was a slight awkwardness in Rusty and Danny just held his gaze until it dissipated. Material differences weren't important.

"Let's start with priorities," Rusty suggested as they stepped back on deck.

"And that would be…?"

"That would be breakfast."

* * *

Bagels always tasted good. There was something intrinsically better tasting about illegal bagels. Danny had looked on marvelling and anxious and a little shocked in equal measure as Rusty had lifted the food from the café right under the nose of the girl with the plastic smile and the attitude.

"She is in the wrong job," Danny commented, biting into cream cheese and salmon.

The girl was busy politely bullying two customers who were offering food tokens that were either the wrong colour or the wrong day or possibly the wrong shape.

"Yeah. You think Terry has an opening?"

Danny was silent and Rusty sighed.

"Sorry. I didn't intend to mention Terry if I could help it. "

"Good," Danny said with unexpected fierceness. "Because I don't want to think about him if I can help it."

There was a slow nod from Rusty and an unspoken understanding. They'd mention and think about Terry later. Right now, there was the moment.

* * *

There were crowds of people on the cruise and they spent the morning people-watching. Honeymooners, retired couples, singles… Danny sat and studied and Rusty gave commentary on all the little details that he saw.

"He normally wears a wedding ring – see the tan line? – but he isn't right now which means either a recent divorce or-"

"Or the redhead he has his arm around isn't his wife," Danny finished.

"You got it."

Rusty looked with a wistful glance as a girl in her twenties walked past with a strawberry milkshake. Danny was almost certain it wasn't the girl that was attracting Rusty's attention.

"Let me get us some drinks," he began, his hand reaching for his wallet.

Rusty caught his wrist. "Let me," he insisted.

Watching Rusty elegantly pick a pocket was like a magic trick and even though Danny was seeing the trick up close and in full detail, it didn't take the magic away. Smooth and graceful and it was over in a second. The man who was loud and obnoxious and busy shouting insults at the sports on the plasma screen didn't even notice. Rusty was back at Danny's side without breaking his stride.

"Milkshake?" Rusty offered, flashing the green.

Danny grinned. "Just coffee for me, thanks."

He looked over at the man still gesticulating at the TV, still unaware that he had been robbed. Then he saw Rusty looking at him and waiting for reaction. He ought to be horrified. He ought to be outraged. He wondered what it meant that he was neither.

Rusty's face relaxed. "I do discriminate," he said quietly.

Danny nodded. "So do I."

* * *

The wallet had disappeared over the side of the ship and now there was pink milkshake which was thick and frothy and blissfully delicious and Rusty lost himself momentarily in the creamy and the sweet and the heavenly. When he refocused, he saw amusement smiling back at him.

"They that good?" Danny asked, sipping his coffee.

Rusty ran a finger around the edge of his mouth and then licked the stray milkshake off.

"I recommend them," he smiled.

The amusement was still sparkling opposite him. "Damn but I'll have to try one sometime."

* * *

He had to trust that his friends in the cause were going to carry out their roles as efficiently as he was. That was what this was about. Trust and efficiency. And results.

He sat on his bed in his cabin as he had done since he had done since he had boarded. No food, no drink. Fasting was good for the soul. He stared at the bag with the clothes neatly folded on top of the explosives. Soon, it would be time. Soon.

* * *

The afternoon wore on. There was enough stolen money for lunch and there were stories. Many stories of success and funny – Pat Byres and the herbal health scheme, Oliver Bryant and the silver mines in Toledo - and Danny listened and lived them. Occasionally, Rusty would skip over part of a story and Danny wanted to ask but the look on Rusty's face was enough to keep him quiet. Sometimes things didn't go Rusty's way.

"It all sounds…" Danny waved a hand. "It all sounds amazing."

It did. He sat opposite this man who was free in a way that he felt he himself would never be. Who was so full of life and colour and vibrancy that beside him, Danny felt grey and shrivelled and empty.

A hand brushed against his.

"It's not always," Rusty said softly. "There can be occasions when it's all less than amazing. Sometimes, you don't know where you're sleeping that night or where your next meal's coming from. You can be hungry and hurting and all you have is yourself to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. It can be lonely as hell."

There was an ache in the final words and Danny stared at him. _It still sounds amazing, _his eyes told Rusty. And lonely seemed a relative term.

Rusty shifted in his seat as if there was suddenly too much vulnerability on display. As if he'd revealed too much to Danny and as if Danny was starting to take them down a road that he couldn't see the end of.

_I've frightened him,_ Danny thought and he sat back quickly. _I don't want him to leave, I don't want him to-_

"Idiot," he heard Rusty mutter under his breath and then, Rusty stood up. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

The grin was wide. "Do you have to know _every_thing?"

* * *

Terry was not in a good mood. His daily stock market report had not been satisfactory. His share portfolio was underperforming and he had decided that he needed to change the mix of risk. Risk. That was the trouble. Terry did not like risk. He liked certainty and angles covered and bets won before they were placed.

He'd spent the morning frowning at the financial pages, trying to decide whether it was worth investing in the latest gadgets or whether they would all be obsolete this time next month. Property was safer but the return was too steady, too slow. Terry sighed. Maybe he was better off just locking his money away in a bank.

Thoughts of Tess flittered across his mind and he brightened. He checked his watch. She'd be at her desk about now.

She was at her desk and as always, her voice sounded warm and professional and honest and Terry felt himself cleansed just by listening to it. Simply by existing, Tess made him feel a better man.

"Tess," he said with a smile and he could picture her smile the other end. "How's your day going?"

"You just rang to ask me that?" She laughed. "It's going fine. It hasn't really been going long enough to go otherwise."

"You missing me?"

"You _know_ I am."

Good. He liked to hear that,

"I'm bringing you a present," he said and waited for a squeal or a gasp that would never come. Tess wasn't that kind of girl and that's why she was so right for him.

"You don't need to bring me presents."

"I know. That's why I like bringing you them."

There was a sigh of amused exasperation. "Well, I'm sure it's expensive and unnecessary and I'm sure I will completely love it."

Terry smiled. "That's why I bought it."

"You could just have bought me dinner."

"When I get back, I'll buy you dinner too," he promised.

There was a pause and then Tess asked hesitantly, "Is Danny OK?"

The smile dropped from Terry's face but he was careful to keep his voice even.

"Danny's fine. He can join us for dinner, if you like."

"Oh, no, no, don't be silly…" Tess sounded flustered. "He can't. I just wanted to know he was alright."

"He is," Terry said shortly. "I've got to go. I'll speak to you soon, Tess."

He snapped the phone shut before she could say "Goodbye" or "I love you" or any other banality.

Danny. Terry's hand tightened into a fist. Danny. Then his fist slowly uncurled. He had all the cards as far as Danny was concerned and that included Tess. He'd insist Danny joined them for dinner. The thought of Danny's face as he sat and watched Terry holding Tess's hand and kissing her fingers made Terry's lips curve upwards. And then he'd present Tess with The Heart of the Ocean and he'd fasten it round her neck and Danny could see exactly how things were.

Danny. Terry frowned again. Where was Danny? He tried to call him again but still all he got was voicemail. Damn the man. Didn't he learn? With a sigh, Terry got to his feet and opened the door to Danny's cabin with the pass key Striker had obtained.

Still no Danny. Not in the bedroom, not in the bathroom, not… In disbelief, Terry picked up the phone on the side. Was this mutiny? His lips thinned and he pocketed the phone. Well, mutiny wouldn't last long aboard this ship. He pulled out his own phone to call Striker but then put it away. He'd rather Striker concentrated on setting up the work he'd set him rather than waste time hunting for Danny. Let Danny have his moment of rebellion. He had to come back eventually and he would express his displeasure fully at that time.

Tension arced its way through his shoulders and he winced. Even though he hated to admit it, he needed to unwind.

Fifteen minutes later and he was on the driving range, drilling golf balls with military precision into the netting. Every ball he struck was another of his worries blasted into oblivion. Webster, the acquisition, Linson Davis, his shares…

Terry turned to pick up another golf ball and movement on a lower deck caught his eye. The pace of a cruise was steady and stable. Passengers moved with a languor because they weren't going anywhere and there was no need to hurry.

Two men weren't obeying the unspoken rule. They were hurtling through the crowd as fast as they could and Terry studied them curiously. One dark-haired, one blond, running as fast as they could, weaving in and out of people as if they were being chased by the police… Terry automatically looked behind them but there was no pursuit.

He frowned. The dark-haired man… He had been too far away for Terry to be sure but it had almost looked like… Terry shook himself. Preposterous. He placed the golf ball and swung hard.

* * *

Breathless, Danny flung himself against the railings at the front of the ship, vaguely aware of the handful of passengers scattering out of his way. Rusty arrived half a second afterwards, bundling into him and they hung together against the metal, looking out at sea, laughing without sound.

Rusty got his breath back first.

"You don't run. You don't…" He shut up at the sight of Danny's face, alive and dancing with freedom. Rusty shook his head with a grin. "Well, I guess it's alright for _you_ to run."

Danny's hand opened around the wallet and Rusty instinctively turned his body to shield them from view.

"I just stole this."

"I know. I was there."

"I just…"

_A man who'd been boorish and rude, on the phone complaining about God knew what, who had elbowed his way past them and nearly sent an elderly woman flying. Who had leaned up against the rail of the ship deep in conversation with his lawyer/therapist/secretary/priest, his hip jutting out and his wallet sitting half-poking out of his back pants pocket, ripe for the plucking…_

_Danny hadn't hesitated. He'd moved swiftly and smoothly and his fingers had been fast and sure and Rusty had stood in impressed silence right up to the point where Danny appeared to realise what he'd actually _done_._

_Then Danny had taken off like the hounds of hell or Earl Barton's boys were after him, which, Rusty considered, were pretty much the same thing. Startled and then amused, he'd followed, deciding that for someone who looked like he sat behind a desk most of the day, Danny could really move._

"I'm a thief," Danny grinned.

"You are," Rusty agreed. "How does it feel?"

Danny stood, wind blowing through his hair, adrenaline still flooding through him, his heart still pounding with excitement and exertion and the forbidden.

"Like I'm king of the world," he said truthfully.

* * *

They lay on the sun deck and stared up at the blue sky and Rusty found himself explaining about Andrew Lee and the little gold statue and about timing that was crucial. Danny listened and asked a few questions and then a distant look came into his eyes and he fell silent and Rusty waited, wondering just a little.

"If you wait till the cruise is nearly ended, then you narrow the opportunity," Danny said slowly. "Like an auction. You can be outbid and miss out."

"True. But if the statue goes missing earlier, then-"

"-then it's only a problem if Andrew Lee notices." Danny turned on to his side and dark eyes shone. "Here's what we'll do."

* * *

The plan smoothed out a hundred different wrinkles and Rusty could see it, could almost hold the statue in his hands. Vision. Danny's gift. Terry was right. And more than that, somewhere along the way, Danny had become more than the author of the plan, he'd become an intrinsic part. This was now _their_ project.

"Tomorrow," Rusty suggested and Danny nodded.

"Tomorrow." Danny glanced down at his watch and his eyes widened in surprise.

Rusty smiled. "I know. I didn't notice either. Guess it's true what they say."

"You ever wonder what colour they are?"

"Purple," Rusty said definitely. "And orange."

Danny smiled back and Rusty could swear the happiness in both of them was reach out and touchable and when Danny squeezed his arm, Rusty knew he was right. It was.

* * *

It had been a day like no other and Rusty was like no other person he had ever met. Danny wanted – _needed_ – to let Rusty know that and he'd reached over and squeezed Rusty's arm and part of him was berating himself for doing so, for such a demonstrative gesture. Rusty's eyes told him that it was fine.

"Have dinner with me," Danny said suddenly.

"What?"

"Tonight. Terry's been invited to dine with the captain. I can get you on the table."

"I…" Rusty sat up and for the first time that day looked uncomfortable.

"You turning me down?" Danny sat up too.

"It's not really…"

"Please," Danny said, trying to keep the need out of his voice and in the same instant, caught the unconscious pull at the sleeve.

"OK," Rusty said. "If you put it like that."

"It'll be black tie," Danny told him and before Rusty could react to that, added, "Let's find you some clothes first."

* * *

The ship catered for everything and everyone and Danny bought the evening dress on his own credit card despite Rusty's arguments.

"I want to," Danny said simply.

He did. Buying Rusty something with his own money was important somehow and when Rusty was changing back, Danny added in a couple of bright shirts that he'd seen Rusty's eyes light on when they'd walked in the shop. There didn't have to be a reason other than wanting to think about the smile on Rusty's face when he found them at the bottom of the bag.

Rusty emerged from the changing room and Danny handed him the bag and silently dared him to say thank you.

_Thank you, anyway._

"Idiot," Danny muttered as they walked out of the shop.

"I guess…"

"Guess I'll meet you in the state ballroom," Danny said, reluctantly acknowledging inevitable separation. "About 7 for 7.30?"

"Can't we just say 7.15?"

"7.15," Danny's lips twitched.

They stood and looked at each other. Rusty moved first.

"See you there."

Danny stood and watched him turn a corner and already his world seemed darker. With slow feet, he walked back to his own cabin.

* * *

His cabin was dark and he hit the lights and nearly hit the ceiling when he saw Terry sitting, legs crossed, in the easy chair, waiting for him.

"Fuck…you could have given me a heart attack."

Terry looked remarkably unbothered.

"I felt certain you wouldn't have forgotten our dinner date with the captain," he said, brushing invisible crumbs off his knee. "Although you seem to have forgotten whom you work for today. Where have you been?"

Danny glowered at him. "I'm not wearing a leash and you could have called me at any time."

Terry hadn't called. He hadn't called and Danny hadn't noticed. Some part of his brain was busy telling him how unlikely both facts were.

"I could have and I did," came the retort.

He blinked and felt for his phone, stopping when Terry produced it.

"Looking for this? Did it fall out of your pocket?"

Danny was silent. In his head, he was replaying the morning and Rusty brushing against him and stepping aside to let him past…Rusty.

"I didn't want to be interrupted," he said heavily as if Terry had caught him in the lie.

Terry nodded with a satisfied look. "For your information, I am not an interruption. I am your core focus." He got to his feet and crossed to stand in front of Danny. "You will not disappear on me again. You will not abandon your phone. You will not be off radar. Are we clear?"

Stubbornly, he held Terry's gaze. The defiance was a bad move.

"Don't even think it," Terry snapped. "I own you right down to your Calvin Klein socks. If they cut you open, my name would be written right through you."

Danny's eyes dropped down to the thick blue carpet. Terry leant in and pressed home his advantage.

"I pay you to do a job, Danny, and you do that job well. That makes me look on you with a friendly eye. Don't be stupid and change my point of view."

He slammed the phone against Danny's chest and Danny's hands moved automatically to take it.

"Keep it on you. Keep it switched on. Now, get ready for dinner."

* * *

A/N: hope you're still liking. And Happy Easter! :)


	3. Dinner

Epic by InSilva

Disclaimer: Do not own any Ocean's Eleven character.

Chapter Three: Dinner

* * *

The store cupboard was hardly the best place to dress to impress but it was all he had. Rusty ran his fingers over his chin and felt the stubble. He really needed to find a cabin. He'd planned to work on that today, he reminded himself, before Danny and the day had run away with him. It would be another night without a bed or a shower. Well, not his first and not his last. The sight of Danny's face, breathless and happy darted in front of his eyes and he smiled. It had been by no means a waste of a day.

Rusty pulled the clothes from the bag and then stared down at the soft silk shirts in turquoise and purple. A flash of pride sparked through him. Damn Danny! The last thing he was was a charity case. He could look after himself. There was no need for anyone to buy him anything- He stopped. Danny knew all these things about him. Knew them and had bought the shirts anyway because… because… because he thought Rusty would like them,

"_I want to."_

Rusty sighed. He reached out and stroked the bright blue silk. He did like. Damn Danny.

A short time later and he was dressed in the shirt and suit and looking down at his unpolished shoes and grimacing. He didn't even dare attempt the bow tie without a mirror. Well, it wasn't too late to change plans – he didn't _have _to turn up at dinner. Except that in other ways it was far too late, of course. Just the picture of Danny's face when he realised Rusty wasn't there was enough to guarantee he was going to be there.

He checked his watch. Time enough for him to find a men's room with a mirror and then find the state ballroom. Rusty glared at his shoes and then glanced hopefully around the store cupboard. There was nothing that looked even vaguely likely to raise a shine. Ah, well. Probably no one would be looking at his shoes anyway.

* * *

Cigar in hand and already dressed for dinner, he'd decided to head to the ballroom early to see who else was going to be on the table and who was sitting next to whom. Wasn't like a little rearranging couldn't go on if it was going to prove interesting or entertaining.

On the way there, he stopped dead in the corridor, intrigued by the sight of a fair-haired young man in black tie in earnest discussions with an officious official who was intent on denying him entry.

He sauntered over. "What's the problem, Timothy?"

The official looked a little relieved to see him. "This young gentleman, sir. Says he's got an invitation to sit with the captain but I can't see him on the list."

He puffed on the cigar and looked at the blond curiously. No more than a kid, really. And pretty enough to make you think he'd fold as easily as a ten high hand but there was something in those eyes…something of steel in there…

"Who invited you, son?"

There was a moment's hesitation as if he was weighing up the answer and then, "One of Terry Benedict's party."

Terry Benedict was going to be there. Interesting. He'd heard a lot about Terry Benedict in passing and the blond didn't look like anyone he could imagine Terry mixing with. Well, that qualified as entertaining. Blowing a small ring of cigar smoke, he fished in his pocket and produced a fifty.

"What's your name?"

Hesitation again, this time as if weighing _him_ up and he resisted the urge to smile with difficulty.

"Rusty Ryan."

The fifty found its way into Timothy's hand.

"I'm sure Mr Ryan is on the list now, Timothy."

"Yes, sir." Timothy was beaming and ingratiating all at the same time. "I see his name now, sir. I'll just go and make sure Mr Ryan has a place laid."

Timothy disappeared and he and Rusty Ryan stared at one another.

"Thank you," Rusty said eventually.

He grinned. "Pleasure." He stretched out a hand. "Reuben Tishkoff."

Rusty's handshake was firm.

"So Terry Benedict invited you?"

"It wasn't Terry."

"I know Terry by reputation. He mixes with the rich and the unscrupulous. He _is_ rich and unscrupulous. So whoever invited you-"

"-isn't Terry."

Fierce blue glared at him and he found himself nodding approval.

"Good to hear it. Come on, let's see where they've put you."

* * *

Terry was next to the captain, naturally enough. Reuben strolled around the table. Sitting on the other side of the captain was Willy Bank. Reuben's lips pursed.

"You know him?"

Startled, he looked up to see Rusty's eyes on his. Reuben cocked an eyebrow, impressed. He smiled.

"He's a ruthless son of a bitch casino owner. So am I if it comes to it. But I'm on the right side of all that."

Rusty picked up the name place next to Terry. "Danny's supposed to sit here."

Danny. Obviously the guy who'd invited him.

"You want to change that?"

It was only a small table, eight select seats - nine now that Rusty was included - but there was no reason a little judicious place-swapping couldn't take place.

"Danny shouldn't be next to Terry."

Reuben took the card from his fingers and sat Danny the other side of the table, Rusty next to him and himself next to Rusty.

"There you go."

"You make it so simple."

"Isn't it?"

Rusty shook his head. "Not by a long shot."

Reuben looked thoughtful. "Those shoes of yours could do with a polish."

Rusty looked startled at the non-sequitur.

"My cabin's close by. Let's go get those shoes sorted and you can tell me whatever you want to tell me about it all."

* * *

Reuben had sent someone scurrying away with Rusty's shoes and instructions that they were to be returned as soon as was humanly possible. Rusty sat on a chair in Reuben's suite and wished his left sock didn't have a hole in it. He screwed up his toes and hoped that Reuben hadn 't noticed though to be honest, given how sharp-eyed the man was, that seemed a vain hope.

"So. Danny."

Reuben was currently rooting through a suitcase. Rusty hoped it wasn't for socks.

"Yeah. He's…he's kind of…" _Special? Brilliant? Fantastic?_

"Like that, is it, son?" Reuben looked amused.

"No," Rusty said definitely. It absolutely wasn't. _(Was it?)_ No. There was an understanding there, an understanding that had been immediate and wonderful and unspoken but it wasn't like that. "He's just someone who makes an impression."

"And he works for Terry Benedict."

"Not for much longer," Rusty muttered. Not if he had anything to do with it. He looked up sharply, wondering if that had actually come out aloud.

Reuben didn't appear to have heard him.

"Here." He tossed a little metal something at Rusty who caught it with ease.

"Dapper Dan Pomade?"

Reuben grinned. "My niece's husband swears by it."

Rusty took the top off and ran a tentative finger across the waxy surface. It was greasy, slippery stuff...it reminded him of Vaseline… His face changed suddenly and he shot to his feet.

"Look, mister, you got the wrong idea about me."

"Wrong idea...?"

"I'm guessing you want me to be grateful for all your help. Well, that's not happening."

"Grateful...?" Reuben stared at him and there was genuine confusion there, Rusty could tell. He wavered slightly in his conviction that he knew what was going on here.

Reuben suddenly choked, trying to laugh and breathe at the same time.

"For your hair," Reuben eventually wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes.

"My hair?" he repeated, uncertainly.

Reuben grinned. "I promise I am not trying to seduce you."

* * *

Absentmindedly, Danny checked his reflection, his fingers tightening his bow tie. He was thinking about the day spent with Rusty. Time had truly lost meaning. It had been amazing and he'd felt so _alive_… His phone rang and a flicker of annoyance crossed his face as he answered it.

"You ready?"

Terry. Of course, Terry. Underlining the point.

"Yeah. You?" Passive aggression. It had to have a place somewhere.

There was a slight pause. "I was born ready."

Unseen, Danny rolled his eyes in the mirror.

They walked into the state ballroom and found they were not the first there. The captain was obvious by his uniform. There were a handful of other men and Danny scanned them, looking anxiously for Rusty. He glanced back at the door. Damn it, he should have thought about Rusty getting into the ballroom in the first place. Just that Rusty seemed to be able to get _anywhere_.

He was still shooting anxious glances doorward when he heard Rusty's voice.

"Rusty Ryan."

Danny's head snapped round. Rusty was there, standing tall in evening dress, his hair slicked back, suddenly looking about five years older than he was, shaking hands with Terry.

"Terry Benedict. So what's your line?"

Danny caught the half-twitch of Rusty's lips. "Who's on first?"

"What?" Terry frowned.

"No." Danny shook his head, his eyes dancing. "What's on second."

* * *

Dinner was a million times better for Rusty being there. Danny felt relaxed like he never had before.

"You and Terry carry evening dress around with you just waiting to be invited to dos like this?"

Danny grinned. "We had a formal meal at the Dorchester while we were over in London."

"What was it like?"

Danny shrugged. "Chandeliers, candelabra, silverware…"

"The food," Rusty clarified.

"Oh…" He shrugged again. "Duck, pumpkin soup, fillet of beef, passionfruit chocolate mousse thing…" He caught the slight glazing of Rusty's eyes at the mention of the dessert and smiled. "We can find it again sometime."

His eyes travelled up to Rusty's hair. "What happened there?"

"Reuben happened."

Danny looked past Rusty to where the man with the unfashionable frilled shirt and the even more unfashionable glasses was in deep conversation with a bald-headed bespectacled guy.

"Fairy godmother?"

"Something like that." Rusty nodded over towards Terry, busy expounding on some point or other to the dark-haired man the other side of the captain. "How's Terry?"

"In his element."

"Not what I meant." Rusty's eyes were refusing to let him avoid the question.

Danny sighed and reluctantly shared. "Well, he found my phone."

"Shit," Rusty said with feeling. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Danny said softly. "I'd forgotten what it was like to forget about Terry."

There was silence and then Rusty said, "I found the shirts."

"You were meant to."

"You-"

"-had to," Danny finished and there was another silence.

"They're beautiful shirts."

"You're very welcome."

And Rusty's smile was possibly brighter than the shirts themselves.

* * *

Terry was willing to concede that the evening was more intriguing than he thought it would be. He'd quickly interrogated the captain and found out that there was nothing more to the man than his position on the ship. The man on his left-hand side was some cattle baron with his money tied up in cows. Nothing doing there. Willy Bank, on the other hand, was a man after his own heart. Definitely an acquaintance worth cultivating.

As for the others…the other casino owner had cracked a few jokes that Terry hadn't found funny in the slightest. And the two men in between Willy and Danny had been non-entities. Some kind of classical musician and some kind of ballet-dancer. Terry dismissed them too.

But the man the other side of Danny, this Rusty Ryan…good-looking in a pretty way, his eyes on Danny, sharing a joke with Danny… He was too far away for Terry to have a proper conversation with him. He'd tried to find out what the man did but the answers coming back from either side of him were not helpful.

The cattle baron said in a low voice that Rusty had invented some sort of glue. Well, actually, he'd hesitantly and reluctantly said that Rusty had invented blue. Terry guessed that maybe too much steak could affect your hearing.

From the other side, Terry heard that Rusty owned a factory in Paris. Well, actually, the story had been that Rusty owned Paris. Chinese whispers.

Still…Rusty must be something special to be here at the captain's table. Rich, Terry was betting. Rich and young, a man of mystery… Maybe Danny could explain the mystery. They looked like they were getting on well. Terry looked again at the way Rusty was looking at Danny. Huh. They were getting on very well indeed.

* * *

The starter had been forgettable, the intermediate course had been some sort of sorbet that Rusty had frowned at because it wasn't ice-cream and the main course had turned out to be a rather nice piece of lamb. Danny excused himself before dessert and stepped away to the bathroom, idly debating whether Rusty had inside knowledge regarding their bet on the dessert containing chocolate.

He was stood at the urinal, having almost convinced himself that Rusty had visited the kitchens before the meal had started, when Terry appeared at his side.

"Enjoying yourself?" Terry asked.

"Right now?" Danny's eyebrows were raised.

Terry ignored him. "Who is he? What is he?"

"Rusty?" _Special? Brilliant? Fantastic? _"He's a hotshot money-maker." It wasn't a lie and he knew what would impress Terry.

"Really…"

"Yeah. He's very successful."

Danny moved over to wash his hands and Terry followed him.

"He seems quite…interested in your company."

There was something in the way he said it, something in his tone…Danny turned his head slowly. Terry was scrupulously cleaning his hands.

"Can't hurt to find out a little more about him."

Danny couldn't be hearing correctly. "You're asking me to-"

"A little flirtation never did anyone any harm." Terry dried his hands on a handtowel and looked Danny in the eyes. "No one's asking you to sleep with him."

Yeah, but Terry wasn't not asking him to sleep with Rusty either.

Danny's mouth tightened. "Where do you get off asking me to-"

"Oh, get over yourself." Terry told him. "It's dinner. That's all."

He turned and walked out and Danny stared after him disbelievingly.

* * *

"What is it?" Rusty asked softly as Danny took his seat again.

Danny said nothing. He looked across the table at Terry, deep in conversation with Willy Bank. Terry caught his eye and there was a twitch of his lips, acknowledging the conversation they had just had, suggesting that Danny do something about it.

"What is it?" Rusty asked again, his voice serious and this time, Danny looked at unblinking blue eyes that demanded answers and promised consequences.

"Terry," he said, stabbing the filigree chocolate basket with a fork and too unhappy to sigh over the fact that Rusty had called dessert right.

"What did he say?"

Danny said nothing.

"_Danny._"

"Said he could see we were getting on well together. Wanted me to explore that further." Miserable and full of disgust.

Rusty swore softly. "He really is an unimaginable bastard."

"Yeah."

Danny's fingers tightened on his wineglass and Rusty's hand brushed his.

"It's not what this is about, is it?"

"No," Danny gave him a half-smile. It wasn't. _(Was it?)_ "No."

"So…did Terry just give you the OK to spend unlimited time with me?"

The half-smile became a grin. "I guess so."

* * *

There were drinks and cigars on offer after dinner. Danny and Rusty were the only two who turned down the Havanas.

"For me," the man whose name had turned out to be Willy Bank, "a fine cigar is like a fine woman. Something to be treasured. Something to be caressed between your fingers. Something that offers itself up for a moment of undeniable bliss…"

Rusty looked round the table. Terry was nodding as if this was the wisest thing he'd heard. Reuben wore an expression of vague distaste and muttered "Schmuck" under his breath. Rusty bent his head towards Danny.

"It would have to be an enormous ashtray," he whispered.

Danny gave a chuckle that sounded extraordinarily loud in the silence and heads turned in their direction.

"You have something you want to say?" Terry asked with a face that was polite on the surface and angry underneath.

Rusty felt Danny tense a little at his side and he hated Terry for producing that reaction. He spoke before Danny could.

"Sorry," he smiled and looked directly at Terry, leant on his elbow, pulling at his bottom lip with his thumb. "I was distracting Danny."

Terry didn't blink, didn't comment, didn't change his expression in the slightest. But his eyes sharpened just that fraction and Rusty reminded himself that unimaginable bastards probably didn't need baiting. Still, that had never stopped him.

Reuben broke the staring match. "Who's for a game of cards?"

* * *

The game of cards turned out to be poker. Not everyone stayed but the cattle baron who turned out to be called Les was up for it and Willy and Terry were there.

"Just because I don't run a smart casino, don't think I don't know a thing or two about cards," Terry smiled at Willy.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Willy smiled back.

"Come on, fellas," Les grinned. "They don't call it Texas Hold 'Em for nothing. Lone Star State breeds the best poker players in the world."

Danny raised an eyebrow. The testosterone levels were getting dangerously high. He glanced sideways at Rusty. Rusty was laughing: just not out loud.

Reuben shuffled the cards. "What stakes?"

Danny felt the moment of uncertainty in Rusty. Cash. It had to be the cash. He tried to think how much was left from what they'd stolen. Probably not enough, not nearly enough if Terry or Willy or Les got enthusiastic.

"Let's just keep it friendly, gentlemen," Danny suggested with a broad smile. "Ten dollars to open?"

* * *

An hour or so later and Danny could not believe his luck. Oh, the opening hand or so had been average but then he'd held four nines and an ace and Willy had had a full house, Jacks over eights, and they'd ever so politely raised each other until the pot was worth definitely winning. And he'd won it.

Since then, the cards had fallen in his favour on more than one occasion. Indeed, he reflected, as he sat back in his chair and sipped his whisky, he was now up a considerable amount. Reuben was winning too. Les was breaking even. Willy and Terry were definitely the losers, Terry with a real streak of bad luck. And Rusty had made enough of the initial few hands to keep up with… Rusty had…

Revelation washed over him like a cold shower. Rusty. Oh, how could he have been so blind? Every time he won big, Rusty was dealing. He glanced sideways again and this time, he focused on the elegant fingers and the skilful dexterity of the man working the deck. Cards moved in his hands like river water, natural and fluid with a relentless rhythm. Rusty owned the deck.

"Your bid, Danny," Terry prompted.

Danny looked down at the straight he was holding. His fingers tightened on the cards and then he folded, aware of Rusty's carefully guarded surprise.

"I got nothing."

Terry took the hand unchallenged and Danny risked another glance at Rusty. There was a quirk of a smile on his lips.

"I feel like some fresh air," Rusty announced, gathering his cash together. "It's been a pleasure, gentlemen."

"You get over to Vegas much, Rusty?" Reuben murmured between puffs of cigar as Rusty stood up.

"Occasionally," Rusty nodded.

"You be sure to look me up at the Xanadu next time. I'd like to know you're in town."

Reuben knew. Danny could see it in the twinkle in his eye and hardly daring to look, his gaze travelled across the other three. Les didn't have a clue. Neither did Terry. And it might have been paranoia but Willy was looking at _him_ with a shade of suspicion.

Silently, Danny thanked the powers that be that working with Terry had given him such a great poker face. He kept his expression cool and even.

"You coming with me, Danny?" Rusty asked.

"Sure," he agreed and tried not to see the approbation in Terry's face.

* * *

Outside and on their own, Danny could hold it in no longer.

"You were cheating!" he hissed.

Rusty gave an unrepentant grin. "Never let it be said that you're not observant."

"But you…" Danny stared at him. "You…" He gave up and told the truth. "You were amazing."

There was a mock-bow.

"Where did you learn to do that? How did you learn to do that?"

"Back rooms of bars. And let's just say I've been to Carnegie Hall."

The next question burned at the back of Danny's throat and Rusty answered it before he could ask it.

"Yes, you can. But not overnight."

Danny nodded slowly. The second question stuck in his mouth too. It sounded ridiculous.

Rusty frowned. "Just ask."

"Can I see you do that again?"

"Now?" Rusty sounded amused.

Yes, now. He hadn't understood and he hadn't appreciated until far too late and he wanted to watch the skill and the style.

Rusty sighed. "Come on then."


	4. Uncovered

Epic by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create any Ocean's characters.

A/N: warning for smattering of card porn. What? I like it. And Danny insists. ;)

Chapter Four: Uncovered

* * *

Reuben and Les had made their excuses and wandered away. Willy and Terry sat at the card table finishing their cigars and whiskies.

"Danny been working for you long?" Willy asked.

"Little while. He has his uses."

"Looked like he was making a good impression on Ryan."

"Like I said. He has his uses."

They smiled at each other.

Willy hesitated for a moment. "The cards fell fortunately tonight."

Terry snorted. "Not for me."

"Not for me either."

There was meaning in there and Terry frowned.

"You think someone was cheating? Tishkoff?"

"No. Not Tishkoff."

"Not smart enough?" Terry hadn't been impressed with the man.

"Smart enough not to try and pull a stunt like that on me."

"Then-"

"Wasn't the cattle king either. I thought it was for a while and I was watching him. But no."

"Well, it wasn't Danny."

"No," Willy agreed slowly. "No. I think Mr Rusty Ryan was playing tonight."

Terry thought about the flippant introduction and the ridiculous stories and the look in Rusty's eyes as he'd stared at him over the dinner table. Yes, perhaps he had been…

"I'll brief my man, Striker. Let him do some digging into Ryan and his background. However rich he is, maybe he needs a lesson or two on what's funny."

Willy nodded and looked satisfied then offered, "You want to grab a nightcap?"

"Why not?"

* * *

The lower decks were still busy with late-night revellers as they drifted into a bar. Danny didn't even think to question how Rusty knew there was a poker game going on in a back room. Some kind of instinct. Some kind of sixth sense.

"So where do we…what do we…?" Danny felt articulation slipping away from him as they walked up towards the doorway.

Rusty gave him a smile.

"_You _aren't going to do a thing."

"Sit back and enjoy the ride?"

"Something like that."

Rusty had gotten them into the game. Four good old boys who were welcoming enough, no doubt scenting rich pickings from the formal attire. As for the game itself…

Rusty had run it. Absolutely and completely in charge of the cards. People around the table won and lost and it was down to Rusty. Now that he knew what was going on, Danny could take time to appreciate the control and the technique on show. Rusty, in charge, orchestrating events, cards falling where Rusty wanted… Danny gave a sudden shiver. It was one of the most intense experiences he could ever remember. His eyes met Rusty's across the table and he saw the amusement and the acknowledgement. This was what he'd been missing.

They ducked out of the game when they were both ahead. Rusty had been restrained and Danny guessed that he didn't want any fallout that a remarkable lucky streak would bring.

"Not tonight," Rusty confirmed as they hit the fresh air again and Danny read the unspoken _Not with you here. _

He objected at once, frowning and grabbing Rusty's elbow.

"No point in courting trouble," Rusty said at once. "Not here and not tonight. Don't want you heading back to Terry in worse shape than when you left him."

"My choice," Danny said sharply.

Rusty smiled. "Only when you can deal like I can. Don't worry. I'll teach you."

The sulk and the pout were immediate.

"Oh, you need lessons in that too," Rusty grinned. He stopped and hesitated. "Guess this is where we say goodnight."

Two thoughts registered with Danny. They were in the vicinity of the store cupboard where Rusty undoubtedly had his clothes. And above that, he didn't want to say goodnight yet.

"Get your stuff and come back with me," he suggested.

Rusty cocked an eyebrow.

"You can be extremely masterful when you want to be. You know that?"

Danny grinned. "Shut up and grab your stuff."

* * *

Rusty was impressed with the mini-bar. It was hard not to be.

"Help yourself," Danny instructed. "Terry's paying."

"Well, in that case…"

Hands full of peanuts, Hershey's and whisky miniatures, Rusty headed back over to the easy chair. Danny had taken up residence on the chaise-longue.

"Nice." Rusty waved a hand at the surroundings. His foot nudged paperwork and something unexpected. "What's with the camera?"

"Terry was hoping for a photo opportunity with our UK visit. Bit of publicity for the internal newsletter."

"Did he get it?"

Danny shook his head. "Deal didn't actually get as far as he wanted."

"Good…?" Rusty suggested.

"Good," Danny agreed. He studied Rusty for a moment and then said quietly, "I enjoyed today."

Rusty nodded. He had too. "Tomorrow will be better."

Tomorrow was about Andrew Lee. Tomorrow was about working together. Tomorrow was about more of the amazing.

* * *

Willy was a man after his own heart as far as Terry was concerned. Money and conquest and winning. Driving for success. Willy was full of stories about his hotels and brisk business and recognition. If he were honest with himself, Terry craved a little of that recognition.

"These awards they give me," Willy said offhandedly. "I don't go looking for them, you understand. Do I turn them down? No. It wouldn't be polite."

Terry hesitated. "I'm…exploring opportunities at the moment."

Willy's expression became more attentive. "I'm always interested in discussing opportunities."

* * *

The whisky was gone. The peanuts and the Hershey's were a thing of the past and Rusty looked ruefully at the empty packets littering the table. Rusty peered at Danny. He looked like he was the right side of drunk still. Rusty _felt_ the right side of drunk. Trouble was, the line between right and wrong could be very thin indeed.

For the third time, he went to run his hand over his hair and stopped. Damn pomade was a pain in the-

"Shower's through there," Danny said, waving a hand in the general direction of the en-suite.

"Right." Rusty nodded his thanks. He could do with a shower. Could do with a shave. He dug in his holdall for his washbag.

"I'll find more drinks," Danny said decisively.

* * *

Danny glanced up as Rusty emerged from the shower in a fluffy bathrobe, towelling off his hair. He looked younger than ever, blond hair falling around his face, face scraped clean, closer to twenty than twenty-five, looking vulnerable in a way that Danny had only glimpsed when Rusty'd been talking about what it was like to be alone.

"You got everything you need?" he asked and Rusty grinned.

"I'm wearing underwear if that was your question."

Danny smiled. "It wasn't. But that's good to know."

He gestured at the table. "Terry had more whisky. And nuts. And chocolate."

"Terry didn't ask what you wanted with fresh supplies?"

"Terry wasn't there."

"Oh. Well, that's…"

"Yeah."

"What's that?" Rusty asked curiously.

Danny held up his left hand, the necklace sparkling in his fingers.

"Terry bought it for Tess."

"That has to be the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Rusty said with feeling.

"Yeah. I thought so." Danny's smile slipped away. "I think she'll think so too."

Rusty reached out and touched the sparkle and Danny saw the hint of professional interest.

"It's worth thousands."

"It is," Rusty agreed.

"Someone would want it."

"I'm sure."

"Take it."

Danny let go of the diamonds and the sapphire and Rusty's hand closed round it.

"Weighs a ton," he remarked, holding the necklace up to the light. "I've never seen anything like it."

He made to hand it back to Danny and Danny pushed his hand away.

"I said take it."

He saw Rusty stare at him, startled.

"I thought about it while you were in the shower. It could work, couldn't it? I mean there has to be a market for it. It could even be broken down into smaller stones..." Danny's words tumbled over themselves.

"No."

Danny's turn to stare. "No?"

"No," Rusty said firmly. "Not like this."

"I'm _giving_ it to you," Danny frowned. "It doesn't get any easier."

"Oh, Danny…" Rusty let the jewels run through his fingers. "It's not about the easy…it's _never_ about the easy…" He sighed. "You don't think Terry would look at this again during the voyage? Get it out and show someone? No sign of breaking and entering. You don't think Terry would suspect it was down to you?"

He pushed the necklace into Danny's hands.

"Not like this," he said again.

"I'm giving you a fortune," Danny said unnecessarily. "You could take it and you could disappear and-"

Rusty laughed and Danny looked into blue eyes that thought that was the best joke they'd heard in a long time.

"I could," Rusty said softly. "You're right, I could. But I'm not going to."

Danny heard the promise and the happy thrill ran through him. Then he gazed down at the Heart of the Ocean and sighed. It seemed like Tess was destined to end up with this monstrosity.

"I didn't say 'No' to the idea," Rusty murmured. "We just need to have a better plan."

"What sort of plan?"

"I'll leave that one to you," Rusty grinned and ran a hand through his newly shampooed hair. The scent of oranges filled the air. "Kind of think that's your specialty."

* * *

"Danny."

His name. Someone calling his name and there was a hint of exasperation in there that suggested the name had been repeated a few times without result. With difficulty, Danny struggled back into consciousness and tried to ignore the thump of the headache. It was tricky. With a rush of realisation, he knew the voice belonged to Terry.

He pushed back the duvet and propped himself up on one elbow. Sure enough, Terry was stood at the foot of the bed. Danny frowned and blinked. The headache was complaining about being ignored and mounting a campaign for recognition. Possibly some sort of billboard was going to be involved.

"Terry?" he croaked and cleared his throat. "Terry. What…"

"It's gone nine," Terry said with disapproval in his voice. "Are you thinking of staying in bed all day?"

It was…oh, it was morning. Danny tried to think back to the previous night. There'd been the dinner, there'd been poker, there'd been Rusty. Rusty. And they'd come back and there'd been the mini-bar… He winced. There'd been the mini-bar. And there'd been the Heart of the Ocean…

Danny froze. He was almost certain that he'd put the necklace back again. Yes, yes… The image came to his mind of Rusty and him giggling as they had pushed the door of the safe shut. Yes.

"Danny." Terry was waiting.

"I'm getting up." He sat up and regretted it. The headache had moved on to a full-blown TV commercial.

"Take your time," Terry said with vague distaste. "I'm off to see Willy Bank. He has some ideas around investments that I want to talk through with him. I'll catch up with you later." He looked round at the floor and the distaste was now written all over his face. "And for God's sake, clear up this mess."

The door closed behind him and Danny exhaled slowly then frowned. Rusty. He couldn't remember actually saying goodnight to him. And then, as the headache launched into a Hollywood movie, the duvet next to him rustled and a mop of blond hair appeared.

Rusty squinted at him with the look of someone whose own headache was demanding top billing on the movie poster.

"Morning," Rusty managed.

Danny stared at him.

"Morning," he replied and there were a whole load of questions in the salutation.

A bare arm appeared over the top of the duvet and Danny's eyebrows shot up. The headache was forgotten.

"We didn't-"

"We didn't," Rusty assured him.

Right. Good. Probably. Danny thought he ought to remember something like that.

"Then how…what…"

Rusty looked like he might sit up and then thought better of it and settled down again on the pillow.

"We drank a lot."

Danny remembered the drinking.

"You showed me the necklace."

He remembered the necklace. The necklace that was… He swallowed.

"You're wearing the necklace."

"Am I?" Rusty sounded surprised. "Huh. So I am."

A memory tickled the back of Danny's mind. He'd worn the necklace too. And then…

"Oh, fuck!"

He was out of the bed and running to the adjoining door ignoring the puzzled "Danny?" behind him. Terry's suite was empty which was lucky. Danny didn't really want to explain why he was charging into Terry's bedroom wearing only boxers. He dropped to his knees and opened the safe and pulled out the Polaroid.

"Fuck." It was Rusty behind him and there was amusement and apology all wrapped up in the word. "I think we thought it was a good idea at the time."

Danny looked down at himself stretched out on the chaise longue, hand resting on his chest, wearing the Heart of the Ocean and not a lot else. They _had_ thought it was a good idea. Something about the outrageous and the daring and the look on Terry's face and thank God he'd remembered.

"Here."

Rusty handed him the jewels and Danny replaced them in their box and shut up the safe. He straightened up.

"You stayed," he said.

"So I did." Rusty's smile reached all the way up to his eyes. He nodded at the photo. "We sending that in to 'Playgirl'?"

Danny snorted.

* * *

They'd dressed – Rusty smoothing his way into the turquoise silk – and headed out. Danny had been wondering about trying his hand at bagel acquisition but Rusty had stopped dead at the cinema.

"Spaghetti Western marathon?" Danny queried.

Rusty was staring at the posters. "There'd be popcorn."

"Popcorn."

"And hot dogs."

"OK."

"And ice-cream."

"Whole three course meal."

"Yeah. And Ennio Morricone."

"Enough. You had me at popcorn." Danny looked up at Clint. "Well, as long as no one's laughing at my mule."

* * *

Terry had bought Willy lunch. The discussions had been very interesting indeed. The casino business appeared a lucrative area of operations and he couldn't think why he hadn't considered it before.

"The house never loses," Willy stated and Terry must have let slip a momentary doubt in his expression.

Willy smiled. "You ever see a poor casino boss?"

No, he supposed he hadn't.

"Casinos thrive on people's greed. And people are always greedy."

The prospect of going into partnership with Willy Bank seemed attractive indeed. His money, Willy's mentoring… Striker appeared and dissipated the daydream.

"Can I have a word, sir?"

The word was not good. The word was that Rusty Ryan was nowhere to be found on the passenger register. Even worse, Striker had put out some feelers amongst his contacts. Robert Charles "Rusty" Ryan had a reputation for being in the wrong place at the right time. Nothing that could actually be pinned on him but enough rumours that couldn't all be untrue.

"He's a conman," Terry said, his voice low and full of anger.

"It certainly looks that way, Mr Benedict."

Controlling the rage, Terry closed his eyes for a long moment then opened them again.

"I don't like conmen," he said. "I don't want conmen anywhere near me."

He thought about Ryan conning his way on to the captain's table, the look in his eyes that told Terry he'd sniffed out an opportunity in Danny, a way in to _him… _He thought about the overt challenge in Rusty's manner. He thought about the money he'd lost at the poker table. Terry's mouth twisted.

"I think I should like you to find Ryan and bring him to me, Striker. I feel the need to explain in detail what a mistake he's made."

"My pleasure, Mr Benedict," Striker said with deference and disappeared.

* * *

A/N: er, just to mention that this fic was kickstarted by someone mentioning naked!Danny wearing the necklace. Mate, you are ever the inspiration. ;)


	5. Confrontation

Epic by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, don't own anything of an original Ocean's nature. Apart from the painting shown on my profile. *happy sigh*

A/N: little "Princess Bride" echo in here. Am sure those who know the film'll spot it. Danny is Buttercup. *giggling*

Chapter Five: Confrontation

* * *

There was a decision to be made over chocolate covered in crispy shells and sweet popcorn. They jointly mused and then Danny reached out, took Rusty's hand and carefully tipped the chocolate into the popcorn.

"Good call," Rusty approved, throwing a handful of the combination into his mouth.

"I'm full of good ideas."

There was a handful of other people in the cinema and it felt like their own private showing. They settled back in their seats and watched the opening credits of _"The Good, the Bad and the Ugly_".

Rusty hesitated and then decided what the hell.

"Terry hasn't called," he murmured, glancing sideways. He caught the slight shift in Danny's expression. "_Has_ he?"

"He probably has," Danny whispered back. He turned his head towards Rusty. "Turned my phone off."

Rusty studied his face and read the reason. Yesterday, not talking to Terry had been Rusty's decision. Today, it was Danny's. Rusty smiled and saw the smile returned and it was about liberation and happiness and together. They turned back to the screen and the smiles remained.

* * *

Striker was working his way methodically through the ship looking for the conman who had dared to take on Terry Benedict. His contacts had been helpful and explicit.

"_If you find that smart-mouthed, thieving bastard," Travers Drake had told him, "I would be extremely grateful if you would kick him hard somewhere it hurts. Actually forget that. Just cut them off."_

Striker had smiled. No problem with that. As long as Mr Benedict agreed.

He had a description of Ryan to work on – _pretty, blond, startling wardrobe – _and supplementary – _moves quicker than you'd think, hits harder than you'd imagine. _He also had a picture that had been texted to him in which it was clear that Ryan was indeed pretty and blond and slim. Looked like he might run away from a gust of wind. Striker understood why he might be easily underestimated and promised himself he wouldn't make the same mistake.

* * *

In his head, there was a clock running. Everything precise and timed to perfection. He sat counting seconds and minutes and took pride in the fact that when he _did _look at his watch, he was accurate.

The operation depended on accuracy. Accuracy and timing and he wouldn't be the one to let them down.

* * *

Danny and Rusty exited the cinema mid-afternoon and blinked their way out into the sunshine.

"So, we pick up the uniforms-"

"-we introduce ourselves to Andrew Lee-"

"-we explain that there has been an issue with the cabin safes-"

"-we check his safe-"

"-we reassure him-"

"-we offer-"

"-safe custody-"

"-receipt-"

"-yeah."

They looked at each other. Rusty shook his head with a grin.

"What?"

"You make it sound simple," he admitted and the blood was singing through him, the buzz building.

Danny grinned too, the excitement reflected back.

"We'll make it simple," he told Rusty.

* * *

Nonchalantly, Willy putted the golf ball into the hole.

"You have a good eye," Terry complimented him.

"I believe I do," Willy agreed. "Stands me in good stead. So. This idea…this project…it appeals?"

Terry nodded. "It appeals. I think there's definite synergy." He considered for a moment. "You think we can call it that? Synergy?"

"The casino?"

"Sounds modern. Stylish."

Willy's eyes took a second to agree. "Sure. We can call it what you like."

Until it was built, of course.

* * *

Mr Andrew Lee had been in turn, surprised, worried and relieved. They walked away, having had the little gold statue practically forced into their hands.

"He was very…"

"He was. Now you know why I wanted to rob him." Rusty looked at their prize and then at the stripes on Danny's uniform. "Tell me again why you were the ranking officer."

"Natural authority?" Danny tried but failed to look modest.

Rusty's lips twitched. "I have to think you just don't like taking orders."

There was a flash of pain on Danny's face and instantly Rusty opened his mouth to apologise but Danny shook his head.

"You're right. I hate it."

Rusty nodded and promised him without words that things were going to be different. They would be. Danny wasn't going to be alone anymore.

They changed back out of the uniforms and Rusty carefully wrapped the statue up and hid it in the store cupboard. Their first proper job and the elation was fizzing away inside him like an Alka-Seltzer in a glass of water.

"You ready for food yet?" Danny asked as they strolled along the deck in the late sunshine. "I mean it must be at least an hour since you ate."

Rusty's comeback died on his lips. Danny twisted his head round to see why and Rusty was already moving, pulling his arm, encouraging flight.

Andrew Lee and a group of ship's personnel were wandering their way and there was no time to wonder how or why. There was only time to move and run.

* * *

The shout echoing in their ears, they ducked into the inner corridors, staying one step ahead of pursuit but not daring to try a cabin. Better to keep on the move. Bad enough to be on a ship of no escape. Worse to be trapped further.

A moment's respite saw them leaning, panting, listening for footsteps. Danny's eyes fell on the internal map of the ship.

"This way," Danny said hurriedly. "I know where we can hide."

The cargo hold was further down in the body of the ship and it held crates and cars. They ran down the iron staircase, Danny making a beeline for the limousine. He patted his pocket in vain for the spare key.

Rusty must have seen the panic.

"I'm on it," Rusty told him, producing a thin piece of metal from his pocket.

Bending down, he worked on the lock as Danny kept an eye on the door for their pursuers. They were close behind, so close but if they could get inside then maybe…maybe…

"Got it." Rusty straightened up and clicked the door to the limo open.

Danny bundled him into the car and shut the door even as the men appeared at the top of the stairs. He pushed Rusty flat to the seat and lay beside him, his body overlapping Rusty's as they peered through the windows. The men were hesitating and conferring and then slowly walked down the steps and damn it, they were picking a path towards the limousine. Oh, hell.

Rusty scrabbled round underneath him.

"Strip," Rusty said tersely.

"What?"

Rusty shrugged his way out of his jacket and dropped it in the footwell and started to unbutton his shirt from the bottom up.

"Strip," he said again.

Danny didn't need to be told a third time. He lost his jacket and hauled his turtleneck over his head. They worked in silent and furious co-ordination, Rusty unbuckling his belt and pulling his legs free from his pants and Danny following suit.

Danny risked a glance out of the window, steamed up with the heat rolling off their bodies. The men were almost upon them and maybe they hadn't seen enough of them to know whom they were following and maybe this would be enough to convince them that they were mistaken-

"You OK with this?" Rusty said suddenly, drawing him out of his thoughts, and Danny laughed.

Then Rusty's mouth was on his, demanding and ardent and Rusty's fingers were wrapped in his hair and his own arms were around Rusty and his own mouth was insistent and he was forgetting to think and his fingers were running over bare shoulderskin and he could taste freedom and passion and-

The door to the limo was suddenly wrenched open and a hand fell on his shoulder. Danny broke the kiss and fixed the intruder with a fierce look full of indignation and outrage.

"Get the fuck out and close the door behind you!"

Muttering apologies about mistaken identities , the man backed away and the door closed and as it did so, Danny saw Striker standing at the back of the little crowd. Fuck. He sat up on the back seat and Rusty swung himself upright alongside him.

"What is it?" Rusty asked.

Danny peered again through the steamed up window. Striker was still there. On the phone.

"Fuck," Danny said again, slamming his palm into the window.

"The chauffeur?" Rusty was looking now too.

"Striker. Terry's right-hand man."

"Thought that was you."

"Terry's _other_ right-hand man. Enforcement."

There was an almost-polite knock on the window and then they could hear Striker.

"Mr Benedict requests the pleasure."

Danny sighed. All good things…

"Tell Terry I'll be there."

"With all due respect, sir, Mr Benedict requests the pleasure of the other gentleman's company too."

Rusty looked at Danny.

_Well, fuck._

* * *

They'd dressed and stepped outside and Striker was waiting.

"Found some new friends, Striker?" Danny nodded at the two large crewmen standing next to him with encouraging smiles.

"Looks like we've all been doing that, sir." Striker's eyes were on Rusty and Danny kept the emotion from his face.

"Rusty doesn't need to come with us, Striker." He would face Terry. He would take whatever Terry wanted to hand out.

"Mr Benedict was insistent. Mr Ryan understands, I'm sure."

Danny opened his mouth but Rusty leaned in closely, his shoulder against Danny's, silencing the protest. Danny understood the message. They were in this together. And actually…actually, what was the issue here? Terry had told him to spend time with Rusty, Terry had had his own ideas of what Rusty was after and he'd told Danny to go along with them…

"Alright. Let's go and find Terry."

* * *

Terry was in his cabin and he offered up a cold smile when he saw them both walk through the door accompanied by Striker and his two men.

"Ah, Danny. Yet again, you find something more important to do than to answer the phone to me." His gaze fell on Rusty. "Or is that some_one _more important?"

"Rusty isn't-"

"Rusty Ryan. Beggar. Liar. Conman. Thief." Terry's eyes were hard. "This what you do? Worm your way into someone's bed and confidence? You think this was an easy way in?"

"Terry-" Danny began.

"You will shut the fuck up," Terry suggested without heat. "I'm addressing the man who was foolish enough to think I was a fool."

He jerked his head and the crewmen grabbed Rusty's arms. Danny moved forward to object but Striker laid a warning hand on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't," Striker said, his hand tightening.

"You picked the wrong man to try and con." Terry was stood right in front of Rusty, doing his best to intimidate.

"I'm not afraid of you," Rusty was saying and he was saying it like he meant it. He really _wasn't_ frightened of Terry and Danny looked at Terry and saw Terry's eyes narrow. Everyone with any kind of sense took Terry seriously.

"Listen to me, you little…" Terry's eyes flicked over to Danny and then back again. "Help me out here. What do I call you exactly? Slut? Whore? Trick?"

Without even having to think about it, Danny had pulled free and sent his fist crashing into Terry's jaw and then Striker's arms were wrapped round him and dragging him away. Danny saw the unfriendly uniforms tighten their grip on Rusty's arms as he struggled fruitlessly in their grasp.

Terry fetched out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood on his lip, glancing over at Danny with hooded eyes before standing in front of Rusty, his face in Rusty's face.

"As I was saying. You little slut, you little whore, you little one-trick trick…you can roll around with whomever you like on this ship and anywhere else if it comes to that. You can wave your ass in the air and you can get down on your knees and please and I will not give a damn. But you do not come anywhere near Danny or myself again. You understand?"

Danny saw Rusty's mouth tighten and he knew the next sequence of events before they happened. Rusty would spit out defiance at Terry and Terry would smile that cyanide smile and let him go and then set Striker after him and by morning, the ship would carry one less conman. He had to act. He had to stop that happening.

"Do you give me your word?" Danny said desperately and both Terry and Rusty's heads snapped round.

"Do you give me your word," Danny asked again, tightness in his voice and Rusty was frowning and Terry's eyes were suddenly bright and Danny could see he knew what Danny was asking and what Danny was offering.

"Yes."

One word. One word and it was going to shape his destiny and his future and he couldn't even look at Rusty, couldn't bear to see the incomprehension and the betrayal. He nodded curtly at Terry who gestured to Striker and Danny was free.

"Danny…?" Rusty sounded unsure what had just been agreed.

"Why don't you go and wait next door, Danny?" Terry said softly.

He still couldn't look at Rusty. Still couldn't bear to look at him. Instead, he turned and walked wordlessly away from happiness and trust and love, trying not to hear Rusty's bewildered "Danny!" that trailed after him.

* * *

The adjoining door shut behind Danny and Rusty glared at Terry. He wasn't certain what had just happened but he had a nasty feeling that he himself was being used as leverage.

"I meant what I said," Rusty spat. "I'm not afraid of you, Terry. Neither is Danny."

"Oh, Danny _is_ afraid of me," Terry contradicted him. "I can assure you of that. Danny is very afraid of what I can do. He's known me a while now and he knows my reach is long and deadly. Now, I've made a promise to him and while it pains me to keep it, I will keep it."

A promise. It wasn't too hard to guess what.

Rusty bared his teeth at him. "Bet that just breaks your heart."

"More than you could imagine," Terry assured him. He turned to Striker. "I would like not to see Mr Ryan again for the remainder of this voyage. In fact, it would please me if it were some time before he found his way off this ship. I like the thought of him crossing the Atlantic a couple of times before he is discovered."

"Certainly, Mr Benedict."

Striker nodded at the men holding Rusty and they dragged him, swearing and kicking, back out of the room, Striker following. The last thing Rusty saw as the door closed was Terry, the self-satisfied smile blooming on his face.

* * *

Danny was sat in his cabin in the easy chair, feeling like he'd just gambled and lost the big pot. The sudden Rustylack was a physical ache. He turned his head as Terry entered and watched him walk slowly over and lean up against the table at the side of the room.

"Slim, blond and pretty? Really, Danny? Is that what does it for you?"

He bit his lip and tried not to give Terry the satisfaction of seeing the words bite.

"I mean, I can get that for you if that's what you want."

There was a sincerity in there that startled him and he stared at Terry. Oh... _Oh... _Terry meant it. Terry really meant it.

"If that's what you want, I can get any number of discreet whores for you who'll be willing to do whatever you want them to do. Though preferably not in the back of my limousine."

Terry flashed him a smile and Danny realised that qualified as a joke.

"Just say the word, Danny. If that makes you happy-"

"No," he ground out. "It doesn't and that's not what this is about."

Terry's eyes narrowed. "This is just about him? Well, now you've fucked him, it's over with, right?"

Danny gritted his teeth.

"You've won, Terry-"

"-I always do-"

"-why is that never enough?"

Terry exhaled slowly and walked forward until he was standing over Danny, looking down at him.

"I want us to be perfectly clear on what we've just agreed. You toe the line, Danny. When I say "Jump", I want your feet off the ground before you ask "How high?". If that doesn't happen, I will have your little friend found and given a fuck that he'll remember for the rest of his life however short that might subsequently be." Terry's eyes bored into Danny. "Yes?"

Nausea rose through him and he couldn't answer for the bile in his mouth. He swallowed hard.

"Yes?" Terry asked again and Danny hated the patient inevitability in there.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Good," Terry said briskly. "We can start by discussing our approach to the Linson Davis Corporation over supper."


	6. Separated

Epic by InSilva

Disclaimer: I didn't create any O11 characters. If I had, I could read all the O11 fanfic and feel proud of myself. ;)

A/N: I'm baaaaack! Moving house and getting back online took a ridiculous amount of time but I'm here again. *waves*

For otherhawk and Zaira and Maia and Peanut Tree and anyone else who has been following this fic. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Six: Separated

* * *

Rusty was being hauled through and down corridors and no amount of struggling was helping. Wasn't hindering either though, and he was grimly pleased with his captors' red sweating faces and curses. Right up to the point where Striker sighed and muttered, "This is taking too long", then stepped round and punched him hard in the head twice, dazing him. He was vaguely aware of staircases and doors and darker and darker corridors and when he recovered his senses, he found the crewmen had disappeared and he was facing Striker in a small poorly lit room with pipes running through it.

Rusty caught the glint of handcuffs in Striker's hands and he launched himself forward, trying to make it past him to the door. The scuffle was less than dignified and less than winnable and the outcome was really never in doubt. The handcuffs rattled uselessly around the stout pipe and panting, he glared at Striker.

"Mr Benedict presents his compliments."

The heavy fist buried itself in his gut and he doubled over.

"No one's going to hear you down here," Striker said as he was trying to manage the pain. "But just in case…"

"Son of a-" Rusty snarled, just before the rag was tied tightly around his mouth. Striker had come prepared.

"Enjoy the rest of your trip," Striker said pleasantly, stepping out of the room.

The wheel on the door span shut thereby sealing it tight and leaving Rusty mentally raining down invective on the man.

* * *

The room was empty when they walked back through. Danny opened his mouth to ask the question and Terry answered it before it was voiced.

"He's still on board. I can find him with ease."

Danny's mouth closed again dutifully.

"By the way…" Terry sounded as if he'd remembered something he shouldn't have forgotten. The back-handed slap was unexpected and hard and heavy across Danny's face. "You _never _hit me again."

Danny resisted the urge to rub his left cheek and the even greater urge to snap out a biting retort. Terry was all smiles and calm once more. He picked up the room service menu.

"Shall we order?"

"I'm not hungry."

Terry tutted. "I'm sure you can find room for something."

Danny doubted he'd keep anything down. Dully, he watched Terry scan the menu and then order two cheese platters. He wondered where Rusty was. He wondered if Striker had hurt him. Actually, he didn't have to wonder.

* * *

Try as he might, Rusty could not get his hand to fit through the handcuff. Either hand. Either handcuff. He couldn't reach the lockpick in his pocket and there was nothing _else _close by that would work. Plus the gag was pulled too tight to be able to free his mouth. Terrific. He stared at the door, willing it to open. Didn't look likely.

He thought about the look on Danny's face as he'd hit Terry.

"_Do you give me your word?"_

He thought about all that that entailed. Sacrifice of happiness and freedom. All for him. For his safety. _Fuck…_

He went back to trying to force his hand through an unforgiving steel ring.

* * *

Terry had been direct and demanding and he'd spelled out consequences just one more time. Because he wanted to. Danny had sat and listened. Because he had to.

The food arrived and interrupted Terry's pontification.

"A civilised meal together, Danny," Terry said, looking down at the spread approvingly. "You want some wine? No?"

"No."

"Suit yourself." Terry slowly poured himself a glass of red, smiling as he did so and then continued where he'd left off. "So all that eye-fucking last night was part of his act. You do realise that. No wonder he was all over you at dinner. You didn't have to reciprocate, you know."

"Seem to remember you were all for it," Danny reminded him. "That didn't last."

"Seem to remember you were a little outraged." Terry's smile broadened and he raised his gaze from the wine glass to Danny. "Judging from what Striker told me, you got over your coyness successfully."

With difficulty, Danny controlled the heat rising in his face and he held Terry's stare. He badly wanted to tell Terry that it hadn't been what it looked like. Trouble with that was he would have to explain about Andrew Lee and Terry didn't need any more ammunition.

The smile disappeared and Terry's eyes narrowed. "Did he ask you about me? What did he want to know? Does he know about the necklace?"

Danny was saved from replying by an insistent bland ring-tone. Terry pulled his phone out.

"Tess. How very lovely to hear from you. No, nothing special. Well…" His eyes were on Danny's. "Danny has been making an interesting friendship." Terry laughed. "Shipboard romance and all that."

Danny set his jaw.

"No." Terry's gaze was steadfast and unblinking. "No one special. I'll tell you about it when I get back. I love you, too. Bye, Tess."

He snapped the phone shut and smiled at Danny. "I'm sure she said "Hi".

* * *

By now, the phone masts would be rigged to blow. So was the communications post. The lifeboats would be sabotaged. In the shadows of the engine room, he placed the final explosive and set the detonation charge countdown. He smiled as he did so. In five minutes, they would have completed their mission and their names would live on as legends within the cause. In five minutes, Operation Iceberg would be a success. Five minutes, 4:59, 4:58…

* * *

Terry's threats, overt and otherwise, ringing in his ears, Danny sat with an untouched plate of food and gave up the way in to the Linson Davis Corporation.

"Not so difficult, now, is it?" Terry raised the glass of red in Danny's direction.

Danny had to look away.

The door opened and Striker walked into the room, round the table and up to Terry, who wiped his mouth on his napkin and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Mr Ryan will not be any further trouble, Mr Benedict."

Danny wanted to scream at him till he had answers. _Where was Rusty? What had he done to him? _He settled for digging his nails in his palms as Terry shot him a look that probed for any sign of rebellion.

"Excellent. You hear that, Danny? Now you can keep your mind completely on the task in-"

Three loud bangs in succession shook the room, sending glass and china to the floor.

"What the…?"

* * *

Down in the little room with the pipes, Rusty felt the aftermath rock hard through the structure of the ship itself. His thoughts were also around the "What the…" closely followed by a _"…fuck…" _as one of the pipes – unfortunately not the one he was connected to – split and water started hissing out in a fine spray, coating him.

Some days, the toast landed butter side down.

* * *

The three of them hurried out on to deck, teeming with passengers looking for answers that weren't forthcoming. No crew members were in sight.

"Go find out what's happening," Terry instructed and Striker melted away. "Don't worry." This last was to Danny but seemed to be more to himself.

Reuben appeared out of nowhere, walking briskly back through the crowd and Danny headed over to him.

"You know what that was?" Danny asked.

"Explosion," Reuben said succinctly. "According to Arnold on the deck below, the phone masts have gone."

"The…" Danny pulled his phone from his pocket. No signal.

Danny saw Striker returning and pushed his way back through the confusion, Reuben close behind him.

"Communications room has been taken out, Mr Benedict," Striker was saying in a low voice. "The ship is under attack. This has become an unsafe environment."

Another bang thundered through the air and Danny caught Reuben as he lost his footing, keeping him upright. The ship developed a definite list.

"Unsafe?" Terry repeated. "No shit."

"I need to get you to a lifeboat," Striker insisted. "Now, sir."

Reuben's eyebrows shot up. "Lifeboat? It's really that bad?"

Striker fixed him with a polite look that said the question actually merited a roll of the eyes.

"This is planned, sir. And whoever has planned it, means business." He turned his attention back to Terry. "Whoever acts first is going to be among the first to be safe."

"Understood," Terry nodded. "I need to pick up something from the cabin first."

Striker looked as if he'd really rather Terry would just do as he suggested but he nodded.

"Danny?" Terry half-turned his head. "You're with us."

Terry walked away from him, Striker following and Reuben laid a hand on Danny's arm.

"Where's Rusty?"

The question he himself was forbidden from asking cut through the shock and the enforced inactivity. Danny stared at Reuben, his mind focusing into a crystal-clear plan of action.

* * *

The water was nothing more than an irritation. No more than a split washer in a cistern would produce. But it was constant and persistent and the room was starting to fill. Negligibly, slowly, but there was water pooling on the floor in inches and it wasn't going anywhere except upwards.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

* * *

Down. It had to be down and far away from anyone. Somewhere that was private, where Rusty could be hidden and contained. Tied up. Gagged probably. Danny's imagination never struggled to conjure up detailed and definite pictures. In his head, Rusty was bound and gagged and blindfolded, stuffed into some tiny crook of the ship, somewhere Terry could find him if he wanted to. Well, he was going to find him first.

The corridors grew less special the lower you went. Below the living quarters, there was little by way of paint and carpet and the décor had definitely moved over to the functional side of aesthetics.

"Sir! Sir! You shouldn't be down here!"

No, he shouldn't. Neither should Rusty. He grabbed the crewman's arm and fixed him with a look of authority that Terry could only dream of.

"I need your help."

* * *

The water was still spraying over him, a fine mist of cold water dampening down his hair, making his turquoise shirt cling to him. His pant legs weren't doing any better. The water was over his ankles now and creeping up his shin and for the very first time, Rusty contemplated the fact that he might actually not get out of this.

He could drown. He could drown with a gag in his mouth and handcuffs round his wrists and he could drown.

Jesus, he needed to get out of there.

* * *

The man was mad, Perkins decided. Completely and utterly mad. And really, they didn't ought to let him out by himself. Really, they ought to have him locked in a cabin. Or preferably not on board at all. He didn't want to be on board himself at that moment. Those bangs. The whole ship had shuddered.

The man had been insistent.

"_Somewhere isolated and quiet. Some place no one would look. Somewhere the crew would have access to."_

Some game, probably. Perkins had decided to humour him. The inspection chambers probably qualified. Nothing in there except pipes, really. He'd offered up directions and the man had fixed him with that killer look.

"_Take me."_

He'd taken him. The first chamber had been empty and then there'd been more ominous creaking and groaning and then Perkins had thought _"Sod the madman" _and pointed at the second room and fled.

Didn't the man _know_ the ship was in trouble?

* * *

Fuck, but the water was cold.

He concentrated on rattling out_ "S.O.S" _on the pipe with the handcuffs. Someone, somewhere might be listening.

Fuck, but the water was cold. Up to his knees now and creeping up his thighs and fuck, but it was cold.

Many ways to die: none of them were that appealing. Images flashed through Rusty's head of the couple of other times when he'd been mostly dead. Mostly dead, he reminded himself. Not like he'd stopped breathing. Not like miracles couldn't happen. Not like the handle on a watertight door couldn't turn.

The handle on the watertight door was turning. Rusty shook his head and blinked the water back out of his eyes and stared harder. The handle was still turning. And then the door opened, the water flooded out and impossibly, incredibly, there was Danny.

Relief shot through him and he saw it reflected in Danny's eyes as they stood and stared at each other. And the relief wasn't just that Danny had found him or that he had been found. It was simply that they were together again. It was like a natural law – like the sun setting in the west or the tides of the sea – and he hadn't realised how wrong it had felt until it felt right again.

_Hey._

_Hey._

Danny sloshed through the puddled water and untied the gag, pulling it out of Rusty's mouth.

"The wet look really isn't in this season."

"No one told me," Rusty grinned. He looked at Danny, standing in the informal shower, his hair plastered back from his face. "Looks like no one told you either."

Danny's eyes dropped down to Rusty's steel-bound wrists and Rusty felt the cold fury rippling from him.

"Silver bracelets." Rusty rattled them. "Just not the kind I normally go for."

Fingers wrapped themselves around his wrists.

"Let's get these off you," Danny said and his voice was hoarse with the effort of managing the anger inside him. His eyes suddenly lit up. "Wait here."

"I take it that's ironic," Rusty called after him as he disappeared back out of the door. He did a double take as Danny re-entered clutching a fire-axe.

"You have got to be _kidding_ me," Rusty muttered. "Tell me you've used one of those before."

_Well…_

"That's what I thought. Come over here and let me give you a quick lesson in picking a lock."

The ship shook again.

"No time," Danny said decisively.

"Believe me, there's time," Rusty corrected him. "There's always time."

_Trust me._

A long second spent staring into dark eyes.

"Oh, _fuck_…" Rusty pulled his hands as far apart as he could manage, tightening them into fists, exposing as much of the chain as he could. He didn't actually close his eyes but he couldn't stop himself from twisting his head away, pressing his face against the pipe and bracing himself for the blow.

There was a clang of metal on metal on metal and his hands fell down by his sides. Slowly, he peered back round at a grinning Danny.

"Did you have your eyes closed?" Danny asked, propping the axe up against the wall.

"No," Rusty stepped out of the fine rain spraying over him. He dug in his pocket for the lockpick and worked on the handcuffs. "Did you?"

The grin remained. "That would be telling."

The handcuffs fell to the floor and then he was standing in front of Danny and they needed to move, they _had_ to move, but before they went anywhere, there was something that needed to be said. The look in his eyes made the laughter fall away from Danny's face.

"That must qualify as the most stupid idea in the world."

Danny's eyes flickered. "It worked, didn't-"

"I'm not talking about the axe and you know it." Fierce. Definite.

"I want you safe," Danny told him in a low voice. "I _need_ you to be-"

"I want you to _live_," Rusty retorted. "Not shackled to Terry - and certainly not because of me!"

He saw the _"If there was something I could do, I had to" _in Danny's face and Rusty's gaze softened. He nodded in slow acknowledgement.

"I know," he said in a gentler tone. "I know."

Danny's lips curved upwards.

* * *

"So what's up with the ship?" Rusty asked as they moved at a fast pace back up through the corridors.

"Explosions. Deliberate explosions," Danny answered. "Communications have gone and phones are down. Think it would be a good idea to get to a lifeboat."

That had been Striker's advice and as much as he disliked what the man did, Danny trusted Striker's survival instincts. They needed to get off the ship.

"If this is deliberate…" Rusty frowned and fell silent for a moment or two.

"If this is deliberate, what?" Danny prompted.

Rusty hesitated and then shrugged. "Let's go and find out."

They emerged on to a crowded deck of panic and instinctively, Danny caught hold of Rusty's arm. He wasn't going to lose him again.

People pushed past them, milling around and there were sobs and fear and confusion surrounding them. That was to be expected, he supposed. But by now, they ought to be getting to their lifeboat stations. This level of chaos was-

"They've taken out the lifeboats," Rusty said and Danny now knew what he hadn't wanted to say earlier.

As he stood, digesting that thought, a large man fell against him and he stumbled. Rusty's hands shot out immediately and grabbed him, keeping him from hitting the deck. Someone else shoved up against Rusty and the two of them were pressed together and hemmed in. They needed to escape this before panic overrode the crowd. He saw the same thought in Rusty's eyes.

Danny put his mouth to Rusty's ear.

"Come on."

Working as one, they manoeuvred their way back off deck and into one of the public seating areas. There were little groups of passengers sitting patiently, uncertainly, anxiously to be told what to do: instructions that would never come. Danny looked at their faces and swallowed.

"Here."

Rusty had found two lifejackets and they pulled them over their heads and secured them.

"This is…" Danny gestured at the situation.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed.

Another shudder ran through the ship, stronger than before.

"This isn't going to end well," Rusty murmured, half to himself.

Danny looked at him. "Think that's an understatement."

Rusty didn't answer. He stood lost in thought.

_Rus…?_

Then Rusty came back to him and smiled, bright and brilliantly.

"This way."

* * *

Rusty was leading them against the flow, back towards the inner corridors and staircases and Danny was a step behind him, at his shoulder and he didn't even ask where they were going. He trusted Rusty.

The conversation was random and the stories were tumbling and Rusty was talking about places he'd been and things he'd done and Danny saw a future of them built on the kaleidoscopic past. His imagination fired, even as they were trying to save themselves, even as they were moving through less populated corridors.

He followed Rusty.

He trusted Rusty to keep them safe and he imagined that Rusty knew some detail about this boat that others didn't. That he didn't. Some detail that was going to keep them safe and get them out of this and that was good because he didn't have any great ideas at this juncture.

No. Rusty knew something. And Rusty would keep them safe. He trusted Rusty.

And that…as they emerged on a private side deck that contained no panic and no dismay and a group of elite passengers and a lifeboat that looked functional enough to be launched, that was _about _to be launched…that was his mistake.

Somewhere, faintly, he heard Rusty saying, "Times like these, money survives."

"Danny." _(And was that actually relief he was hearing in Terry's voice?)_ "We wondered where you'd got to."

Disbelief. Rich and running through him and the future, the impossible, wonderful future, turned to dust in a moment. Danny stared past Terry and Striker at the lifeboat full of wealthy faces. The cattle baron and Andrew Lee at the back of the boat and standing near Andrew, Willy Bank who smiled thinly when he saw them.

Them.

Danny turned his head and looked at Rusty.

"Why?" Whispered soft betrayal.

"I want you safe," Rusty said in a low voice.

"Well, I want you to live!" Danny snapped back. He started to head back the way they'd come and Rusty instantly blocked his path.

"Rus-!"

"_Danny._"

Rusty's eyes drifted over his shoulder and back again and before Danny realised the ask for what it was, Terry was there and Striker's hands were on Danny's arms.

"We go together," Danny said urgently. "We both leave-"

A shake of a head and a smile. "There isn't-"

"-room," Terry finished. "Striker, he wasn't supposed to be so easy to find. I'm officially disappointed." He shoved Rusty back a step. "Though I have to say, Ryan, you must be one hell of a fuck."

Rusty stepped back into Terry's personal space, face to face and toe to toe. "Well, _you're_ never going to know."

Terry bared his teeth. "Since we're about to part company permanently, I'd have to say you're right."

"We got an understanding here?" Rusty asked.

"I'd say so."

"I wouldn't!" Danny interjected.

They both ignored him.

"Look after him," Rusty instructed, patting the front of Terry's jacket.

"Oh, I will-"

"You will." Danny glimpsed ice blue ferocity. "Or I will find you."

There was a ripple of unease in Terry's face and then it disappeared. "You're not getting off this ship, Ryan. I don't think you're in a position to make demands."

Rusty stepped back round in front of Danny and Danny had to try again. Had to. Had to get Rusty to undo what he'd done. He willed Rusty with his eyes to understand what he wanted to say.

Rusty had his own words. Danny read _"Sorry"_ and _"If there was another way"_ and _"Good-"_

"No!" Danny said at once and the desperation was taking on an identity of its own. "Never!"

With an impulsive gesture, Rusty caught his face in between his hands and kissed him briefly and fiercely on the lips.

"Be all you can be," Rusty told him and it was another way of saying goodbye and Danny hated the very idea.

"Rusty-"

"Gentlemen, the first lifeboat has rowed clear," one of the crew said. "We can launch."

"Danny, we need to get on this boat," Terry declared and he was being dragged backwards and however much he struggled in Striker's grip, nothing was happening and he was on the damn lifeboat and the crew were casting off and every second, every moment was taking him away from Rusty.

He stared at Rusty leaning against the railing of the ship and all Danny could say, over and over, was _No…No…_ and all that he had coming back to him was amused acceptance and acknowledgement. Everything was narrowed down to a world of two.

* * *

The Heart of the Ocean sitting in his pants pocket (and he wished he could be there when Terry found out about that little reappropriation), Rusty watched the lifeboat swing out over the water. His eyes were locked on Danny's because if this was going to be the last he ever saw of the man, then he wanted… Rusty swallowed. This probably _was_ going to be the last he ever saw of the man.

_Live,_ he told Danny silently. _Live for both of us._


	7. In Deep Water

Epic by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, they don't belong to me. Seriously doubt they'd want to.

Chapter Seven: In Deep Water

* * *

Terry's smugness was nearly as overpowering as Striker.

"Say so long, Danny," Terry murmured. "A nice little diversion but it's all over now. Time to get back on with the real world."

The real world where Terry ruled and Danny suffocated and in less than twenty-four hours, it would be as if Rusty had never existed and the way things were going, Rusty _wouldn't _exist…

The kiss still burned on his lips and there had been everything in there: _"Be all you can be"…_intense and daring him to live his life and such love…such _love…_

The lifeboat was in mid-air and level with the deck and then it was slowly, steadily dropping down towards the water, away from Rusty, _away_ from Rusty. Danny felt sick to the pit of his stomach. He'd only just found Rusty and he couldn't lose him, he just _couldn't._ Rusty was slipping away from him like a dreamfade. He stared at Rusty, not daring to blink, using every last second to talk, to connect, to-

"Hey!" Indignant Andrew Lee, finally realising whom they both reminded him of. "Where's my statue?"

There was scuffling behind him and it wasn't much but it was enough to distract Striker, to make him loosen his grip and _that_ was enough for Danny. He pushed forward and away and past Terry and there was surprise and advantage. A foot on the edge of the boat and he launched himself upwards and his hands were reaching and grabbing the railing.

Except that his fingers weren't closing round metal. Rusty was there, his hands gripping Danny's elbows, hauling him up and over and they collapsed on to the deck in front of a few bemused crewmen, still engaged in lowering the lifeboat.

"You know these plans of yours…" Rusty panted, "…you're not covering yourself in glory."

"Think I'm offended," Danny told him in between ragged breaths of his own.

"Jumping back on board a sinking ship? Doubt I'd be alone in ranking that as a bad idea. What were you thinking?"

Danny's smile was warm and broad and instant and reached all the way up to his eyes. Rusty's eyes widened slightly.

"We only met two days ago," he whispered.

The smile didn't fade.

"Oh…oh, you have a sentimental streak a mile wide…"

From somewhere beneath them, came expletive-filled apoplexy.

"Guess Terry's missing me already," Danny grinned.

"Yeah. You. Or this." Rusty pushed the necklace into Danny's hands. "Probably both."

Danny stared stupidly down at the sparkle in his fingers.

Rusty gave an awkward shrug. "Figured Terry couldn't give it to Tess if he didn't have it to give."

Tess. And as much as Danny loved her, as special as she was, she seemed far away and distant and part of a life that wasn't his anymore. Nothing seemed more real than being with Rusty. And it might not be like _that _but that didn't make it any less powerful, any less vivid, any less core. A tiny part of him was screaming he take a logical view of things and the rest of him was telling logic to go hang.

"Hey."

Some of it must have shown in his face because Rusty was squeezing his hand and blue eyes were saying that they felt it all too. Danny crinkled a smile. Looked like Rusty understood it about as much as he did and cared even less that it made no sense.

* * *

Danny had come back for him. Twice in less than an hour, Danny had given up safety and come back for him.

He'd stood and watched Danny disappearing in the lifeboat and he'd resigned himself to the separation and he'd rejoiced that Danny was going to survive even while he was mourning the loss of Danny. Even while the kiss, the last physical contact he'd had was warm on his lips and he'd hoped that Danny had understood everything he'd said and everything he'd wanted to say.

Then he'd seen Danny acting even before Danny realised he was. Instinct had taken over and the flurry of rescue had suppressed any thoughts of what it all meant.

But sitting on the deck and looking at Danny and knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Danny also felt the strength of what lay between them, that it mattered to Danny as much as it mattered to him, that Danny surrendered to the illogic of it too…

Rusty had never felt more loved.

The tremors grew stronger and the practical and the immediate took over. They scrambled to their feet, Danny stuffing the jewels into his pants pocket.

"Ship's not going to last much longer," Rusty predicted. "We need to move."

* * *

"Didn't see Reuben on that boat," Danny said as he followed Rusty once more through tilting ship corridors.

"Well, there's one lifeboat already launched. Willing to bet he's on there."

That made sense. Reuben had been with Terry and the others earlier. No reason to think that he wouldn't have found his way to safety.

Danny wasn't asking where they were headed this time either. They emerged into open air and deck and milling passengers and it was with some surprise that he realised he recognised where they'd ended up.

"This is the back of the boat-"

"-stern of the ship-"

"-this is where we met," Danny said.

"There goes that sentimental again," Rusty grinned.

The deck inclined alarmingly underneath their feet and Danny grabbed Rusty's elbow.

"That to keep me upright or you?"

"Both?"

Rusty forced his way in between frightened people, grasping the railing and dragging Danny's hand on to the metal.

Danny looked round at the others standing with them. A young woman with black eye-liner and black mascara that was absolutely not waterproof: a guy with an enormous girth who kept licking his lips and offering up whispered prayers to whatever god was listening: two guys who must be brothers, shoulder to shoulder, tight-lipped and trembling.

Stars were appearing. The sun was on the last rays of the day. Another time and it might have been a moment of beauty. As it was…

"Ship's going down."

Rusty's words brought him back to himself.

"Nothing gets past you."

"When we hit the water, we're going to get dragged down with it. We need to kick hard for the surface."

Danny couldn't stop the grimace.

"What?"

"Can't exactly swim," he muttered.

Rusty stared at him incredulously and then laughed, free and uninhibited. "Feel I ought to point out that the fall will probably kill you."

Danny joined in the laughter and didn't care about the looks they were attracting. "Had you figured more as Sundance."

"You don't think I'm Butch?" Rusty's eyes were alive with amusement.

"I might want notice of that question."

The ship gave a death-groan, long and loud and deep. They found their hands were linked together: neither of them could have said how or when that had happened: both of them accepted the why.

Danny stared over the side at the fast approaching expanse of dark greeny-grey.

"Good job we had that shower earlier. Bet that water's cold," he murmured.

"Probably full of sharks, too," Rusty suggested helpfully.

"You're such a half-glass full kind of person," Danny pointed out.

Rusty grew serious. "Kick off your shoes."

Danny did as he was told.

"Do we inflate these things?" he gestured at the life-jacket and looked round at other passengers: some had done so and some hadn't.

Rusty shrugged. "Hard to tell the best time. But I think waiting till we're in the water and clear is probably a plan. Don't want to puncture them on any stray bits of metal."

Danny nodded. He tightened his grip on Rusty.

"Don't let go," Rusty told him.

_Never._

Rusty's lips twitched. "I meant when we're in the water." He frowned. "In fact-"

The ship shifted suddenly and whatever Rusty had been going to say was lost amid screams and sounds of twisted metal and the onrush of water and darkness.

* * *

Ice-cold, wet darkness. All around him. Surrounding him, cocooning him, suffocating him.

He'd taken an automatic gulp of air just before the water had engulfed him and instinct told him to hold on tight to that precious breath because right now, that was all he had.

He still felt Rusty's fingers on his and that was good. He tried to squeeze Rusty's hand but the pressure of the water was immense and he couldn't tell if Rusty felt his touch or not.

_Kick hard for the surface._

Rusty's instructions and that would be fine if he knew which way up was. He wouldn't panic. He mustn't panic.

_(He couldn't swim! He couldn't swim and he couldn't breathe and he was going to-)_

Rusty. The thought of Rusty kept him calm. He could see Rusty's face, eyebrow raised in amusement. He could hear Rusty telling him that death was not an option. They'd only just met and they were destined to do more together than die.

There was a sudden bright red flash somewhere above him as if a storm had started and the lightning was full of blood. Three terrifying realisations hit him all at once.

He knew which way was up and it was so fucking far away.

There were so many people between him and the surface.

Rusty wasn't holding his hand.

* * *

Even though the plunge into the water had been expected, Rusty still hadn't been prepared. Next time, he'd do better, he thought grimly as the waters closed over his head.

The pull of the ship was strong and he kicked hard against it, his hand still clutching Danny's. He felt certain he still knew which way he ought to be headed and he focused on battling the darkness and the icy water, twin imperatives bursting through him – _don't let go of Danny and get to the surface._

He couldn't see Danny but he could feel his fingers on his and he tried to squeeze Danny's hand, to offer reassurance and comfort. The water was so heavy, he doubted whether Danny would actually realise but still, it made _him_ feel better.

The journey to the surface was going more smoothly than he'd hoped. He felt like he was definitely making progress. And Danny wasn't slowing things down in the slightest. Rusty felt ridiculously proud that Danny was proving such an able learner. He pulled the tag on his life-jacket and felt the rush as he was lifted gracefully upwards.

He broke the surface, taking an enormous gasp of air in time to see a barrage of flares lighting up the night sky like the Fourth of July. It distracted him for half a second from the screaming truth.

Danny wasn't holding his hand.

* * *

No fear. No terror. A simple plan. He knew which way to head and he knew what he had to do. _Kick hard for the surface._ Swimming might be up there with dancing the tarantella but he was a quick learner.

He hadn't let go of Rusty and he seriously doubted Rusty had let go of him. The coldness of the water had numbed the senses and they'd slipped apart and he hadn't noticed. Probably Rusty hadn't noticed either. Probably Rusty was somewhere safe now and wondering where Danny was. Maybe Rusty thought _Danny_ had let go. Danny couldn't bear the thought.

Lungs bursting with the effort of holding on to the air, he kicked hard, the need to explain to Rusty what had happened burning through him as fiercely as the need to breathe.

* * *

Swearing freely, he wrestled the life-jacket from his body and dove down beneath the waves, searching for Danny. Another set of flares was launched and the underwater lit up, faces rushing towards him, frightened and desperate and not _Danny._

When he could hold his breath no longer, he came back up for a couple of seconds of precious air and then the search began again.

* * *

His throat was tight and his lungs were on fire and he drove himself onward, upward, pushing through the water, ignoring the freezing cold, ignoring the pounding in his head, pushing himself to the limit and beyond, because this was about life and death and Rusty and he was damned if he was going to give up until…well…until never…

And the surface was closer - _had _to be closer…he was pushing blindly through bodies and he just needed a little help…

Life-jacket. Danny's fingers felt and fumbled and pulled the tag.

Immediately, the thing inflated and the shock knocked the last of the oxygen out of him. It also lifted him up through the final raft of people and he hit the surface and tasted glorious, fabulous life for all of three seconds.

Hands grabbed him. Hands grabbed on to his shoulders and held him and his face was forced back underneath the surface. He struggled and fought but the hands locked on to him, climbed on him, were using him to keep afloat.

The water was covering his face and he managed to turn and to bob up and grab a breath and then his mouth and nose were back under the water and his eyes were wide and pleading and surely he hadn't just made it up from the depths in order to drown an inch from safety.

Flares floodlit the scene and miracle of miracles, he could see Rusty. Straight in front of him and his back to him, his head twisting this way and that, looking for him, Danny realised, searching for_ him_… Danny was frozen and it was nothing to do with the water. With every fibre of his being, he willed Rusty to turn round.

The weight pinning him shifted again and he was under the water. With an immense effort, Danny forced his way up to gasp in a huge gulp of air. And then he was under the water, under the water, under the water, under the water...

* * *

Danny was nowhere to be found. Rusty could feel the anxiety eating through him.

_Not helpful,_ he snarled at himself. He trod water furiously, scanning the survivors, ignoring the screams and the whimpers and the moans that surrounded him.

He heard a noise behind him that had sounded like Danny and he turned and saw the fat man who had stood next to them on the ship, primal fear in his face, holding on for grim death to some poor soul, using them to keep himself afloat.

Danny.

Oh, God, Danny.

He tore his way through the water, pushing people aside until he reached Danny's side.

"Let go of him!" he bellowed and he pulled at fingers that were locked tightly on Danny.

The man stared at him, his face blank and terrified and not loosening his grip in the slightest.

Danny's head was under the surface. There was no _time…_

The water was cold but the fury was blazing. He punched the man hard. Once. Twice. Three times. The man let out a sharp moan and put his hands up pathetically to protect himself. In that instant, Rusty grabbed Danny.

* * *

Suddenly, the weight disappeared and he was free and he had to get to Rusty, he had to get to-

"I've got you," Rusty muttered in his ear. "I've got you…just relax…"

The ache of survival running through him, Danny lay back in the safety of Rusty's arms and allowed himself the luxury of breathing, promising himself he would never take air for granted again. Rusty had him. He could relax.


	8. Life and Death

Epic by InSilva

Disclaimer: own nothing Oceany.

A/N: I'd like to mention a fic that might be slightly lost as it sits on the Crossover page (at the top on the right of the main O11 site). It's called "Perspectives", it's by Maia2 and it's a Supernatural/O11 crossover. I'll confess I don't know Supernatural but it didn't stop me thoroughly enjoying the fic. :)

Chapter Eight: Life and Death

* * *

Clearer water. Away from the ship. Away from most of the clusters of passengers who were making less noise now, who were more subdued, the initial shock of the sinking past and the reality of dealing with the situation hitting them. Away from the lifeboats with Terry and the rest of the rich. He'd found those lifeboats when he'd done the recce for Andrew Lee, long ago and far away _(and two days seemed an absolute lifetime)_. He'd meant what he'd said. _Times like these, money survives._

Well, he was a survivor too. A survivor and a fighter and a confident swimmer. Childhood in the back of beyond hadn't given him much but swimming in the river was up there with the magic of movie theatres and the longing for the bright lights and the need to escape and kick the dust from his heels at the earliest opportunity.

No, swimming he was alright with but fuck, the water was cold. The little dousing he'd had earlier in the room with the pipes and the handcuffs ranked as merely chilly by comparison. Out of the water would be a plan: an essential plan as far as Danny was concerned. There was being thrown in at the deep end and there was sinking or swimming but Rusty was certain that the icy Atlantic was not a place for a rookie.

The moon was up and that was something. Even so, it took Rusty a second to realise what he was looking at. Perfect.

"Hold on," he murmured, more to himself than anything and was surprised when Danny answered him.

"I didn't let go!" The words burst from Danny.

"What?" For a moment, Rusty was bewildered then realisation dawned at the same time as Danny elaborated, earnest and sincere thrown over his shoulder as if making Rusty understand was essential, trying to twist round to talk face to face with Rusty.

"In the water, I didn't-"

"I know. I know," he said again, soothingly.

"I wouldn't-"

"I know. Danny, I _know_."

There was a pause and Rusty felt the tension leave Danny, felt him lie back again in trust.

"I didn't want you to think…" The words were faint and Rusty almost didn't catch them.

Rusty gave a wry smile of indulgence at the top of Danny's head. "You just redefine idiocy."

There was a snort that suggested Danny did not feel he had the monopoly on that. Rusty chose to ignore it.

A moment's silence and then Danny said, "You were kidding about the sharks right?"

"Yeah. Too cold for sharks." He hoped so. Way things were, he could have had both legs bitten off and not be able to tell. "Probably keep the killer bees away too."

Danny gave a soft chuckle. "You think they'll make a movie of this?"

"Bound to. Look how well _"The Poseidon Adventure" _did."

"Always felt it was lucky it was Christmas."

"Wouldn't have got out of that ballroom otherwise."

Rusty checked their progress. Nearly there…

"Who'd you think would play us?"

"Bob and Bing?"

"Jimmy and Cary? Redford and Newman?"

"Bogart and Bacall?"

Danny's laughter was good to hear.

"I'm Bogart, right?"

Rusty grinned. "Expect so. Doubt you could walk in the heels."

"And you-"

"I'm like Jello on springs," he assured him.

"Look forward to seeing that."

Silence. Silence in which neither of them talked about possibilities and probabilities and the darkness and the deep.

"Here," Rusty said instead.

* * *

"Here," Rusty said and he felt Rusty encouraging him into an upright position and he bobbed in the water, supported by the life-jacket.

There was a large, flat expanse of wood floating in the water. Part of a packing crate from the cargo hold, Danny's brain told him when it had stopped trying to make it into a raft. Rusty guided Danny's fingers and they closed around the edge of it.

"S'not much but it's home," Rusty smiled.

Danny cracked a smile back at him.

"Compact and c-cosy," he replied, his teeth suddenly chattering. "My f-favourite."

"Get on," Rusty suggested.

"After you."

Rusty looked like he wanted to argue but instead, he scrambled on top of the crate, laying flat. The crate remained buoyant but it was definitely lower in the water. Rusty held out a hand and Danny grabbed him by the wrist.

"S'what we should have done earlier," Rusty told him. "Holding on by the wrist. Stronger bond."

"Uh huh. Like Loctite."

Rusty's teeth gleamed in the moonlight. "Stronger."

He was half out of the water now and Rusty was pulling him on to the wood and there was already a half-formed thought running through Danny that they might yet be washed up on a desert island with banana trees…coconut trees…pineapple trees…maybe rum trees and then he could make a pina col-

With a complete lack of ceremony, the packing crate capsized, tipping them both back into the water.

"Too much weight," Danny suggested as Rusty helped him back to the edge of the crate.

Rusty gave him a look that was a mix of fondness and exasperation.

"Are you always full of this kind of insight?"

Danny's grin faded. "It's only going to take one of us."

"Yep. You."

"No. I'm not the one who's been doing the swimming and…what happened to your life-jacket?" he asked, suddenly realising.

"Colour didn't go with my eyes," Rusty said easily.

Danny frowned but before he could pursue it, Rusty was speaking again.

"I'm fine in the water, Danny, honestly. Regular little Esther Williams."

Danny laughed in spite of himself. "Anyone else would have said Johnny Weissmuller."

"Never sure how good I'd look in a loincloth."

"But a swimsuit-"

"Oh, I could carry that off, same as the heels. I may yet enter 'Miss Universe'. Get on the crate."

"No."

The glare was fierce and when it was obvious that wasn't going to work, Rusty sighed.

"OK. We take it in-"

"-turns," Danny agreed.

"You first." Simultaneous.

Another sigh. "Alright."

Rusty slid back on top of the packing crate and Danny was both pleased and strangely disappointed. He'd thought Rusty would hold out longer. He knew _he _would. Even though the water was like winter and he didn't think he could feel his feet any longer and his head was heavy... Still. Rusty was up on the packing crate and safe and he was holding on to the edge and they were together and that was all that mattered.

* * *

"You gonna tell me about Tess?"

He saw Danny smile. That was good. The water was colder than Alaska and the open air was not much better. He needed to gather his strength and keep Danny talking.

"She's a little younger than me. She's smart and she's funny and she's good-looking and she carries herself so… We worked late together a couple of times. Just the two of us sending out for pizza. And it was amazing. Then Terry arrived and it all went-"

Rusty's punch was hard and solid and deliberate and it connected in just the right spot to send Danny's head rocking back on itself and into oblivion. At once, Rusty was off the crate and heaving Danny's unconscious body up and on to the wood.

"I'm sorry," he muttered over and over. "I'm sorry."

Danny lay slumped forward, his head resting on his arm.

"I'm sorry," Rusty told him again softly, reaching up and stroking Danny's hair. "Not that sorry though."

* * *

The ship had slid away off the horizon, sucked under the waves faster than a greenhorn gambler's bankroll disappearing at the roulette table.

Reuben sat in the overcrowded lifeboat and watched it disappear, impotence and worry and guilt running through him. He was in the habit of surviving but that didn't mean he had to feel good about it. Right now, he was fuming.

When the explosions had happened, he'd made it his business to find out what was going on. He'd walked straight past Willy Bank, looking at a loss for once and he'd seen Danny, distracted and radiating uptight unhappiness, with a Terry Benedict whose self-assurance was badly shaken.

"_Where's Rusty?"_ he'd asked and he'd seen the misery encasing Danny crack wide open and resolve take its place.

Reuben didn't know what was going on there but he liked Danny. He liked Rusty. He'd sat at the dinner table the previous night and he'd overheard the ridiculous conversations and he'd seen the way they'd looked at each other and neither of them might realise it but they were falling in love. Had _fallen_ in love.

Oh, it might not be like _that -_ Rusty had sounded definite on this point and Reuben wasn't going to push it but this was way past casual acquaintance. They already meant something to each other and it was as if they'd bypassed the conventional getting to know you stage and had leapt straight in at the do anything, risk life and limb to keep you safe point of a relationship.

The poker game had been fun to watch. Rusty blithely and brilliantly cheating – man, that boy could handle cards – and Danny didn't have a clue. And Rusty _knew_ that Danny didn't and that was part of the joke. Reuben had enjoyed the joke too. And when Danny had realised…priceless.

They'd walked away from the table and Reuben had watched them go, easy together, walking shoulder to shoulder and moving in each other's space as if they'd known one another for years. They looked _right_ together which was why he'd asked where Rusty was.

Terry. It had to be Terry. As Danny disappeared from the deck, Reuben stood and worked it out and was willing to bet that Terry had put a stop to the friendship. Well, Danny didn't look the sort to just agree meekly. And from what he'd seen of Rusty, it didn't seem likely he'd be bought off. Which left what exactly? Intimidation of some sort. One or other or both of them had been threatened and Terry had got his way.

Reuben had smiled grimly. Not anymore, he hadn't.

Hanging around with Terry was partly about watching with delight the snarl and the frustration when he realised Danny was gone. It was also about steering clear from the mayhem he could hear on the decks below. It sounded like it was turning nasty.

"Lifeboats are out." The big hulk that Terry employed reported back. "Sabotage."

"Follow me, sir." Timothy was at his side and leading him away and Reuben followed curiously. So did a group of the others, scenting escape.

The private deck with the two lifeboats that were intact made Reuben feel slightly ill. Privilege had its privileges.

"We should let the other passengers know," he'd said and Timothy had stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"There'll be children," he'd insisted. He'd turned to the others. "We should draw straws or something."

"This isn't a fucking state lottery!" the nearest man scoffed. "They take their chances same as we do."

Reuben stared at a sea of unashamed self-centred faces. They all stared defiantly back at him.

"You want to give up your place, Tishkoff, you do that." Willy's voice, silky and amused. "I'll make sure Vegas dims its lights."

It wasn't right. It wasn't right and they all knew it and not one of them cared.

"Out of the way," said the man closest as the ship shook and then there was a tide of them, swarming into the boat and carrying him with them.

He protested and he fought but the wave of desperation swept him away with it and he was squashed at the back of the lifeboat between two enormous men, powerless to do anything about it.

"Sit tight, you bleeding heart," threatened the one on his left. "Or this lifeboat'll be a little lighter."

He was down in the water peering up as the second lifeboat launched. There seemed to be some sort of incident though, some sort of kerfuffle and then there was a collective gasp as one of its occupants launched himself back out of the boat and back on to the ship. Someone on board hauled him to safety. Well…for a given value of safety.

The second lifeboat rowed alongside and he stared at Terry Benedict's furious face. Afterimages of what he'd seen burned through Reuben's mind...dark hair and blond... Reuben couldn't stop the smile. Then he'd looked back at the sinking ship and the smile had vanished. They might be together but that didn't mean they were going to be safe.

Now he sat in the silent lifeboat and sent up silent prayers and tried to block out the sounds of fear and death.

* * *

It was later. So much later and he'd tried to check his watch but the inner workings had seized up either because of the water or the cold. He thought it would be impossible for the temperature to drop any lower but as he held on to the makeshift raft and watched the soft white breath from Danny's mouth, he was willing to concede he was wrong on that score.

Seeing the breath in the air was a good thing, he told himself. Meant he knew that Danny was still alive and that was something. And while he could still work that out, then _he _was still alive and that was something too. He couldn't feel his feet or his legs or any part of his body that was still in the water. Mind you, he couldn't feel any part of his body that was out of the water either. Fuck, but it was cold. So cold. Tiredness crept through him and he pushed it away. He needed to stay awake and alert.

_Danny needs you._

The thought jumpstarted him and he coughed and cleared his throat and started talking.

"One of the things we are not going to do when we're back on dry land is take on Earl Barton. Earl is a mean son of a bitch and believe me, there's more than enough good reason to want to take him on but we're not going to. Unless you can think of a good plan. I mean I'm sure I can get us in but…"

He broke off and stared at Danny and the cold was deep within him now and he was shaking with it. He forced himself to continue.

"I tried b-before," he managed and the memory floodlit his mind. "Earl's t-tricky to track. He doesn't trust anyone. S'probably why he's so successful..."

Shock. That's all it was. He'd had so much to concentrate on and adrenaline had carried him through, that and the need to keep Danny safe and now he just had him. He was alone. Not a problem. He'd been alone before. He'd-

He jolted awake, his fingers gripping the crate, his chin resting on it, close to Danny. He hadn't realised he'd been sleeping. How long had he slept for? He looked anxiously at Danny. Danny was still out for the count. Good. Good. They'd never have been able to take it in turns. Hauling themselves up and out of the water would have taken far more energy than either could manage.

He hoped those flares had done something. He hoped that someone would rescue them. And he hoped that they'd do it soon.

* * *

A hand was shaking him awake. Groggily, Danny opened his eyes to misty dawn and saw a pair of brown eyes (_wrong colour)_ staring at him.

"You OK, mate?"

Without waiting for an answer, hands were dragging him towards them and with a cry, he realised where he was and pulled free. Rusty. The crate-raft and he'd…Rusty'd hit him. _Bastard._ He should have known Rusty wouldn't give in that easily. Where was Rusty? Where was…

Frantically, he checked the water around the raft. No sign of him. He looked up at the little launch boat that was half full of blanket-covered people who'd no doubt been pulled from the wreckage. No Rusty.

Rusty should be here. Rusty wouldn't have left him. Rusty wouldn't… Realisation hit Danny hard and he couldn't stop the moan of pain. Rusty wouldn't. Which only left one answer.


	9. On and on

Epic by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create any part of the Oceanworld. Which is rather like Discworld but more watery. Still contains magic and conmen, though. ;)

A/N: Am in mourning for England's abysmal performance at the World Cup. We were truly awful. It's something when one of your keepers is your joint top scorer.

Chapter Nine: On and on

* * *

_Earlier…_

Rusty's hands rested on the crate and he stared at Danny. Danny was safe. Danny was out of the water and Danny was safe.

With difficulty, Rusty turned his head to one side, leaning his numb face on his fingers, trying not to think about how hard it was to breathe. They were going to get through this. They had to. Tomorrow morning would come and Danny would wake up and scowl at him and he would laugh and tell Danny he'd do it again in a heartbeat.

And then, there would be a rescue ship, please. With hot chocolate and a warm bath and dry clothes and a bed. A nice soft bed…

He felt himself nodding again and shook himself back awake. His gaze travelled towards where the ship had gone down – where he _thought _the ship had gone down. Truly, it was difficult to be sure.

A movement caught his eye. A slow, deliberate movement and he forced his brain to focus. Well, it wasn't a shark. Someone was swimming with great determination and they were headed straight for the crate. His mouth was suddenly dry. He could be wrong but there was something in the unerring strokes of the swimmer that suggested purpose. They had seen the crate and they didn't care that it was occupied.

"I'll be back," he murmured to a Danny who wasn't listening.

Agonisingly, he prised himself off the crate and promptly took a mouthful of seawater. Coughing and spluttering, he concentrated on making his stiff limbs move, swimming awkwardly out to meet the stranger.

"Out of my way," said the man hoarsely and Rusty realised he knew him. It was the boor from the bar who'd bought them breakfast.

"No," he said simply.

"Out of my way!" snarled the man. "I'm getting on that bit of wood."

"That bit of wood's already taken."

"Not for long," the man promised grimly.

He didn't have the energy for this, really, he didn't but there was Danny and that meant he had to try. The man was wearing a lifejacket and that gave Rusty a slight advantage when it came to manoeuvrability. He moved round the man and grabbed him by the shoulders with strength that he didn't know he had. There was a startled cry and the man struggled but Rusty kicked hard and away, away from the crate, away from Danny.

"Get the fuck off me! I'll fucking kill you!" the man yelled and there were a couple of gurgling supplementary shouts that suggested he'd gotten a mouthful or two of salt water.

Rusty ignored him. _Water…stroke…water…stroke…away from Danny…keep Danny safe…_ That was as far as the plan went and he was tiring now. He'd been tired before he'd started and now he was exhausted. The moon picked out a solution. A floating barrel of something and he dragged the man over to it.

"Here," he managed, guiding the man to it just as he'd guided Danny to salvation earlier.

"Here," the man spat and the punch was hard and heavy and smashed into his cheekbone.

So much for gratitude. Rusty drove the pain far down where it belonged and turned and kicked again, back the way he'd come. _Danny..._ His arms were lead weights and his sense of direction was shot. He glanced up at the stars and thought he should be heading more to the right. Possibly. Fuck, it was hard to tell… He hadn't realised he'd gone this far. He hoped Danny was OK. He hoped Danny hadn't woken up and wondered. He hoped…

There. The packing crate gleamed white in the moonlight and with a sudden burst of energy, Rusty made for it, ignoring the truth that his brain was screaming at him until he was actually on top of it.

No. Nonononono.

The crate was empty.

Danny.

_Danny._

Frantically, Rusty searched the waters around the crate. Not a sign.

Danny…

He must have slipped off. He must have drifted away. He must be floating somewhere. He could be face down in the water, right now, unconscious and drowning...right now, Danny could be dreaming about coming round and being rescued and he'd be _dying…_

Rusty hauled himself up on to the crate, on to his knees and scanned the waters and ignored the cold and the ache and the weariness and the pain in his face.

"Danny!" His voice sounded cracked and broken. "Danny!"

Danny wasn't there. And that could only mean one thing.

Exhaustion and emotion hit him like a sock with a brick in it and he collapsed down on to the crate, the tears too frozen to fall.

Danny was gone.

He needed to look for him. He needed to find him. He needed to say sorry for not keeping him safe after all.

Before he even tried to move, his body told him flat out it was on strike. He had to rest. Just for a moment…

* * *

Dawn came early, this time of year.

The men in the first little rescue boat spotted the body of the man slumped across the packing crate.

"We got one!" cried Jonas, young and eager.

Tom, older and wiser, kept silent. He reached out and shook the man by the shoulder, gently at first and then harder, but there was no response. Tom checked the man's pulse. Nothing. Tom looked up and shook his head and Jonas's face fell.

Tom glanced past Jonas's shoulder at the handful of survivors they'd pulled from the water, grouped together and shocked and shivering and not taking much notice of anything outside the boat itself. No point in putting them through any more trauma. And at the same time, this dead man was someone's father, someone's brother, someone's son. He deserved to be rescued too.

Tom waved his hand and the second little boat swept up to collect the dead.

* * *

Reuben had been amongst the first to be helped on board, the crew running around sympathetically and eagerly, offering what help they could. He'd wanted to put some distance between himself and the cloying relief of the others he'd shared the lifeboat with so he'd made his way on to the main deck with a mug of very sweet tea and watched.

The rescue operation was improvised and not that well-co-ordinated but was reasonably effective. There were two little launch boats working in a haphazard but enthusiastic fashion, bringing back survivors one side of the ship and bringing back bodies the other side.

Terry and Willy and other elite clambered on board: Reuben ignored them. He sipped the tea and looked hard amongst each group of new arrivals for the faces of people he knew and wanted to see again.

* * *

Three years ago, Terry had been in the middle of negotiations that were going well but had reached the level of fait accompli where he switched off and let his lawyer take over. Instead, he'd sipped coffee and looked through the floor to ceiling glass wall at the couple by the photocopier. The woman was attractive and smartly dressed and she was laughing with the handsome man with the dark hair and the smile that was meant only for her.

"That's Danny," murmured the company's Vice-President – the one Terry'd bribed for information and cooperation and who thought he had a generous package lined up - following his gaze. "He's someone you want to hang on to."

"Because…?"

"He's a talented boy. We've started pulling him in on our planning meetings. He's really got something."

Terry looked thoughtfully at the dark eyes sparkling and the way the man held himself.

"And the girl?"

"Tess. New HR Manager. Also worth keeping around."

"Also talented?"

"Well…I was thinking more about the scenery," the VP leered.

Terry gave him a knowing smile and mentally made the note to get rid of the man sooner rather than later.

Tess went on her way and Terry watched Danny's eyes following her as she left. Danny's eyes, unguarded and obviously interested. Terry sipped the coffee and stored up the information.

Deal done, Terry had gone softly-softly, smiling and encouraging. Many of the executives had been falling over themselves, sycophantic and ingratiating and he'd ignored them all. Danny, on the other hand… Danny was indeed the little creative dynamo the ex-VP had suggested. Insightful, incisive and quiet little comments that had merit. Terry was impressed.

He followed Danny's instincts and suggestions and he wasn't disappointed. Danny delivered. Terry liked what he saw and he wanted to own.  
The only thing that grated was the streak of morality running through the man. If Danny had been a venal, back-stabbing opportunist, things might have been so much easier. Terry lay in bed and plotted, precisely, carefully. He needed to wind Danny in, to embed him so deeply that Danny couldn't escape. Well. That could be done.

"I want you to work closely with me," he told Danny and promptly sent him off on a three month strategic research trip to Washington State.

Wooing Tess in his absence was…expedient. Terry went out of his way to charm and dazzle and it didn't hurt that she looked good and was good company. By the time Danny returned, Tess and Terry had reached a kind of understanding; the kind of understanding that put a wedge between Danny and Tess; the kind of understanding that made sure Danny wanted to hang around.

There was an unforeseen side-effect to it all: Terry became unexpectedly fond of Tess. Beauty and wit and he found himself enjoying buying her presents – art, clothes, jewellery - almost as much as he enjoyed seeing her unwrap the gifts in front of Danny. Possession and control and Danny had gradually understood exactly how things stood just as he gradually realised that morality had no place in Terry's deals. By the time Danny tried to break away, it was already too late. He was Terry's.

Yes, he liked owning Danny. Pulling the strings and watching Danny jump to, watching Danny hate himself for it. Rusty Ryan had managed to overturn three years of conditioning in a matter of hours. Terry couldn't believe that Danny had chosen shortened life-expectancy with that smart-mouthed, insolent piece of shit over him.

Now, he was safe on board the ship that had picked them up and was busy scowling at the crew and his fellow rescuees.

"Would you like a hot drink, sir?" Striker held out an earthenware mug.

An atypical show of fury burst out of him.

"No, I wouldn't!" He smashed the mug to the deck. "I want off of here. I want to be back in New York. And if Danny's survived, I want him with me. Go and find out if either of them are on board."

"Understood, sir," Striker bowed his head and left.

* * *

The boat whisked him away, wrapped up in a thin grey blanket and sitting next to other survivors. Dully, he'd watched as the packing crate receded into the distance and they skipped across the top of the waves and back to the large... tanker?...cargo ship?..._battleship? _a silent voice mocked.

"Someone saw your flares!" shouted the young man who'd pulled him on to the launch. "They radioed in! Call went out and we were closest! Only we can't travel that fast!"

The man's words washed over him and Danny registered the excitement and the thrill in his voice. Being part of a rescue mission was obviously an enjoyable diversion to everyday life.

Danny suddenly hated him. Vividly, passionately. Sometime soon, this would all be an anecdote. Something to tell his pals about when he got back home. Some tale told in a bar, late at night when warstories were exchanged. The ship would be the focus. Not the passengers. Not the individual stories and the individual lives. Not the extinguishing of life, of magic, of…

He couldn't think of it. Couldn't begin to think about it. He felt colder than he had done in the water. Soulnumbness ate at him.

The boat pulled up alongside the ship and Danny climbed woodenly aboard, allowing himself to be shepherded on deck with the others.

* * *

Warmth. Wrapping round him and numbing in its own right. Maybe this was what the temperature was like in heaven or hell.

He'd already given himself over to the cold of death. The afterlife was a nicer place to be.

* * *

Reuben spotted Danny stepping on board and he couldn't stop the smile. They'd survived. They'd- Reuben looked again at Danny's face, at the empty, at the joybereft and the smile faded. _Danny_ had survived.

Reuben closed his eyes and said a quick prayer for Rusty's soul. Then he started to make his way towards Danny.

* * *

Warm. Warm. Maybe this was what a turkey felt like at Christmas when it was defrosting.

He could hear voices. He couldn't open his eyes and he couldn't move a muscle but he could hear voices. Huh. Did angels really _swear_?

* * *

"M-Mr Tishkoff?"

Reuben stopped in his tracks. It was a shivering Timothy, his hands clasped round a hot drink.

"Good to see you again, Timothy," he said and meant it.

"G-glad to see you m-made it too, sir," Timothy stuttered in reply.

Reuben's attention was suddenly caught by Terry's hired help walking methodically and systematically across the deck, studying faces, looking…_searching…_

"Danny and Rusty…" Reuben whispered half to himself.

"Mr Ryan?" Timothy asked.

"Yeah…" Reuben was staring over his shoulder at the hunter looking for prey.

"Mr Ryan's…" Timothy broke off and Reuben's attention was suddenly focused on him.

"Mr Ryan's what?"

* * *

He was being moved. Hands were lifting him up with careless care, roughly depositing him somewhere hard. There was a rustling…plastic? Plastic sheeting maybe. Or a bodybag. He laughed silently at his own dark joke.

His legs were being lifted and wrapped together tightly. Like an Egyptian mummy, he thought idly. Better hope they didn't want to take his brains out.

_

* * *

_

"We found Mr Ryan, sir," Timothy had said. "He was on a bit of floating wood."

"He was alive?" Hope leapt in Reuben and died in the next instant.

Timothy shook his head. "The men left him for the other boat."

The other boat. The one that brought back the dead.

Reuben had hesitated for a long moment but Striker was too close for comfort for him to approach Danny without drawing attention to him. Besides. He could check this out. He headed below deck.

* * *

Somewhere, there was someone patiently suggesting that it would be a plan if he tried to open his eyes or cough or something right about now.

Plastic. It was definitely plastic and it was being pulled over and round his body, higher and higher.

"Poor sods," said a voice, not for the first time. "Doubt they bargained on this when they set off on 'oliday."

"We need to get 'em wrapped," said the other voice. "Otherwise they'll stink this place out soon enough."

Yes. He needed to do something. Something soon.

* * *

Doors often opened for Reuben that shouldn't. Which was how he found himself in the makeshift morgue, looking at corpses, desperate for a cigar.

"You see your friend?" the crewman asked solicitously.

No. No, he didn't. And Timothy had been very sure and that didn't make any sense.

The door to a sideroom opened and another crewman emerged.

"You alright now, Stan?"

"Yeah, Kelly." Stan gave a watery smile. "Fair gave me a turn."

"Gave me a turn, too," Kelly grinned.

"What?" Reuben was curious.

"Dead coming back to life," Stan confided. "Look…"

He pushed the door open and Reuben stared through to the chair and its occupant. Blond-haired and blue-eyed and a beautiful sight for sore eyes.

* * *

Danny sat on the deck the blanket wrapped round his head, mechanically sipping the tea. He stared out across the water, his eyes blank.

"You look like you've been in the wars, mate," said a cheerful voice.

Another crewman. Another crewman he wanted to punch as hard as Rusty had hit him.

"What's your name?"

He turned his head. The crewman had a clipboard. Collecting details…

"Danny..." he began dutifully and then he caught sight of Striker, prowling through the crowd with method. Terry. Terry was looking for them, for _him…_

"Daniel," he corrected.

"Uh huh. And your surname?"

He couldn't give his own name. _"Ryan" _burned on his lips. Rusty's name and it sang in his heart. No good. Striker would recognise it. _Terry_ would recognise it.

"Your surname, sir? Sir? Are you OK, sir?"

The crewman was puzzled and anxious and any second now, Striker might hear, might see… The necklace suddenly weighed heavy in his pocket. The Heart of the Ocean. He'd shown it to Rusty and he'd told him the ridiculous name and all that had happened only a day ago. And here he was now with his own heart aching.

"Sir?"

"Ocean," he said and smiled. "My name is Daniel Ocean."

The man moved away to continue his census and Danny resumed his contemplation of the vast waters that held a life cut short. He rested on his elbows against the railing, wondering what he was going to do next with his life.

__

"Be all you can be."

He owed it to himself. He owed it to Rusty. He-

"Daniel Ocean?"

Danny kept very, very still.

"You think that's a plausible name?"

He turned his head slowly and Rusty was there, leaning up against the railing, head wrapped in a blanket. Looking very much unlike a ghost.

"What name did you give?"

"Herbert Herbertson."

"And _that's_ plausible?"

Rusty shrugged. "He's on the passenger list."

Danny digested the thought and then pushed it aside in favour of the more pressing question.

"What the hell-" Low and fierce.

"I'm sorry," Rusty cut in and it was apology for the punch and apology for abandoning him. "I'm sorry."

__

Should think so.

"Some guy wanted to evict you," Rusty explained.

Danny's gaze fell on the angry mark on Rusty's cheek and a flash of pain ran over his face.

_It's nothing._

Danny's eyes told him how wrong he was.

"I got kind of turned around in the water," Rusty went on. "Couldn't find my way back to you. Found what I thought was the packing crate and you weren't on it."

The last words were quiet and strained. Rusty's eyes closed briefly and when he opened them again, Danny saw the strands of hell inside. Danny's hand closed over Rusty's in an instant and they looked at each other, acknowledging what the separation and the shadow of death had done to both of them.

"You're freezing," Danny muttered eventually, pushing the drink into Rusty's fingers.

"Don't feel it," Rusty grinned.

Danny squinted at him. "What _are _you wearing?"

* * *

It was a day for miracles.

_A light moan and he recognised his own voice making it._

_"Jesus fucking Christ! Did you hear that, Kelly?"_

_He'd been pulled up and unwrapped and sworn at some more by two hardened sailors who told him they had seen everything in their lives but they had never seen anything like him. Somewhere, Rusty could hear Danny agreeing and he started to smile. Then, he remembered and the tears that he hadn't been able to shed flowed down his cheeks, hot and plentiful._

_"There, there," said Kelly, patting him on the arm. "It's shock. Stan, find him a nip of something, will you?"_

_Stan had produced a shot of whisky and Rusty had drunk it down automatically, the heat sinking low into his stomach and starting to ripple through him. Stan looked as white as...as an empty packing crate gleaming in the moonlight..._

_"'Ave one yourself, Stan," Kelly advised._

_"Don't mind if I do." _

_"Think I'll have one too."_

___They pulled him into a little room away from...bodies, lots of bodies, his peripheral vision told him. Maybe Danny was there. He'd have to check when he had his strength back. When he felt he could face looking at Danny, lifeless and... He shook the thought from his head. Later. He'd check later._

___Kelly dug around and found an old sweatshirt and sweatpants. Rusty nodded his thanks and forced his fingers to work on the buttons of his shirt, pushing them through the turquoise silk._

_"Can cut that off if you like," Kelly said helpfully, producing a sharp knife._

_"No!" Rusty backed away from him. "No."_

_The shirt was Danny. He trembled as he changed and it was nothing to do with the physical remnants of the experience. _

_He'd survived. Danny hadn't. _

_"Have another whisky," Stan suggested._

_"'Ave a sit down," Kelly offered._

_He did both as if in a dream. _

_There was a noise outside and Kelly sighed._

_"I'll go and see what that is. You stay 'ere, Stan, and drink some more whisky. You look as green as my Aunt Flo's pea soup."_

_Kelly excused himself and Rusty sat and didn't listen to Stan's words of cheery comfort. Then, the door opened and there was Reuben. Rusty flicked him a smile and he _was_ pleased Reuben had survived. It was just... _

_As Reuben bubbled over with words of delight and joy, the pain was sharp in Rusty's chest and maybe he was being a little ridiculous here. He was grieving over a man he had only met a couple of days ago. A man who... He swallowed. A man who thought he mattered. A man whom he connected with in a way he never had with anyone. A man who cared enough about him to come back for him. A man who... Danny..._

_"Danny's alive."_

_His head shot up at Reuben's words. "What?"_

_Reuben was studying him anxiously and he reached out and grabbed Reuben by the arms. _

_"Danny-"_

_"Danny's alive," Reuben said again. "He's up on the main deck by the railing."_

_Rusty was on his feet and almost immediately his legs went from under him. Reuben kept him upright._

_"Steady."_

_"I've got to go. I've got to-"_

_"First of all, take it steady. Also, you need to know that Terry's looking for you. For both of you." Reuben pulled the blanket from around his own shoulders and draped it over Rusty's head. "Keep your head down."_

_"Reuben..."_

_"Danny thinks you're dead," Reuben added quietly. "So-"_

_"-go steady." Rusty exhaled. "Yeah. Thanks."_

_He headed out of the door._

_"And come and see me at the Xanadu!" Reuben called after him. "I'll put you up in the best suite!"_

A day of miracles. He'd seen the unmistakable shape of Danny and he hadn't realised he'd been holding his breath until he let out a gasp of relief and belief.

And now, he was with Danny and Danny's arms went round his shoulders, pulling him close, holding him safe and Rusty knew it was only partly about keeping him warm. He knew Danny knew too.

After an indeterminate while…

"So." Danny moved out of the embrace and leaned up against the railing again, facing the sea.

"So." Rusty leaned up against Danny.

"Where are we gonna hit first?"

Rusty considered. "We've got an open invite to stay with Reuben in Vegas."

"Reuben's alive?" Danny exclaimed.

"Yeah. Kind of helps, don't you think?"

Danny grinned. "Little creepy otherwise, I'll grant you." His face grew serious. "You know, Striker's looking for us. And he won't stop until he's sure we're not on board this ship."

"What is he - the Terminator?"

"Terminator's brother at least."

"Well, I'm not jumping back overboard."

The grin was back in place. "No. But we need somewhere-"

"Stan and Kelly. They'll hide us."

"Stan and Kelly it is."

"This way." Rusty started to lead him back below deck.

"You do know the plus side of all this?" Danny said as they walked carefully, unobtrusively through the crowd.

Rusty stared at him. Yes, he knew the plus side.

"Not that. Idiot." Danny looked amused. "Terry doesn't fly. Willing to bet that now he won't travel by boat either."

"Oh, that's an upside. Like to know Terry's contained in a continent."

Danny grew pensive. "I told Terry how to get inside his next corporate target."

"Then we'd better make sure he doesn't," Rusty said firmly. "Plus we'd better work out a way to get you the girl."

"Tess…" Danny swallowed. "She's going to-"

"-think you're dead," Rusty nodded. "She might be a little pissed when she finds out you're not. I mean…" He waved a hand.

"Yeah." Danny understood the point.

"Still. We'll find a way," Rusty promised.

"Yeah."

They would.

* * *

A/N: The end. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!


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